<7 

University  of  California  •  Berkeley 


A    ROMANCE. 


BOSTON: 

J.    E.  TILTON    AND    COMPANY, 

161  WASHINGTON  STREET. 

1860. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1859,  by 

J.   E.   TILTON    AND   COMPANY, 
in  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  District  of  Massachusetts. 


University  Press,  Cambridge  : 
Electrotyped  and  Printed  by  Welch,  Bigelow,  &  Co. 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE 


I.  SIR  ROHAN \\ 

II.  OVER  THE  HILLS  AND  FAR  AWAY  .        .        17 

ILI.  MIRIAM 37 

IV.  THE  WINE-CELLAR   .         .        .        .        .         73 

V.  THE  RINGS .  102 

VI.  JTanc!)0n 122 

VH.  TESTIMONY 154 

VlLL  THE  FOREHEAD  OF  THE  STORM         .         .175 

IX.  SUNSHINE 181 

X.  MR.  ARUNDEL 193 

XT.  WORK    .  .  215 


M514202 


Vlll  CONTENTS. 

XII.  MORTMAIN        .        .        .        .        .        .  .     229 

XHL  HALCYON  DAYS   .        .        .                 .        .257 

XIV.  MIRIAM'S  KINGDOM  .  .  .  .  .  268 

XV.  THE  Two  .  .  .  .  .  .  .277 

XVI.  Ix  THE  LANES 283 

XVII.  WHETHER  OR  No 296 

XVTII.  REDRUTH  SURRENDERS  HIS  ACCOUNTS  .  301 

XIX.  THE  FACE  IN  THE  FLASH  .  .  .  .317 

XX.  THE  CLANG  OF  HOOFS  .  .  .  .  328 

XXI.  THE  GHOST  .  336 


"  Si  1'on  entendoit  bien  la  difference  qu'il  y  a  entre  Tim- 
possible  et  Pinusite,  et  entre  ce  qui  est  centre  Pordre  du 
cours  de  nature,  et  centre  la  commune  opinion  des  homines ; 
en  ne  croyant  pas  temerairement,  ny  aussi  ne  descroyant 
pas  facilement,  on  observeroit  la  reigle  de  Mien  trop,  com- 
mande'e  par  Chilon." 

MONTAIGNE. 


I. 

SIR    ROHAN. 

fTlHERE  is  a  Ghost  in  all  aristocratic  families, 
I  and  therefore  it  is  not  to  be  presumed  that 
the  great  house  of  Belvidere  was  destitute.  But 
though  it  had  dragged  on  a  miserable  existence 
some  three  hundred  years  without  one,  at  last 
that  distinction  was  to  arrive.  Sir  Rohan  had  a 
Ghost.  Not  by  any  means  a  common  ghost  that 
appeared  at  midnight  on  the  striking  of  a  bell, 
and  trailed  its  winding-sheet  through  the  upper 
halls  nearest  the  roof,  but  a  Ghost  that,  sleeping 
or  waking,  never  left  him,  a  Ghost  whose  long 
hair  coiled  round  and  stifled  the  fair  creations 
of  his  dreams,  and  whose  white  garments  swept 
leprously  into  his  sunshine. 

Sir  Rohan  had  left  his  home  in  the  northeast 
of  England,  and  had  refurnished  one  more  cheer- 
ful, on  the  opposite  extremity  of  the  island,  in 


12  SIR  ROHAN'S  GHOST. 

Cornwall.  Pleasant  fields  extended  on  either 
hand,  a  woody  mountain  climbed  behind,  and 
the  long  swells  of  the  Atlantic  rolled  in  front. 
Fine  pictures  adorned  the  galleries,  soft  draperies 
shrouded  the  apartments,  and  delicate  sculptures 
confronted  you  at  every  turn.  But  something 
else  confronted  Sir  Rohan ;  the  Ghost  had  flitted 
too,  and  even  here  he  found  no  rest.  If  he 
galloped  up  the  lawns  from  his  morning  ride, 
the  sad,  pale  face  looked  earnestly  from  door  or 
window  on  him  and  faded;  and  if  he  rowed 
homeward  in  the  sunset,  with  his  listless  spray- 
washed  sail,  the  same  face  gazed  from  a  balcony 
dreamily  out  to  sea. 

In  determined  attempts  to  lay  this  Ghost,  Sir 
Rohan  threw  himself  into  the  heat  of  foray  and 
battle.  Braver  knight  there  was  not  in  the  king- 
dom; but  he  left  the  army,  for  the  shape  glid- 
ed perpetually  between  his  sword  and  his  foe, 
charged  breathless  and  with  glistening  eyes  be- 
side him,  rode  with  the  same  glitter  as  earnestly 
in  retreat,  covered  him  with  its  oppressive  va- 
cancy when  he  fell,  till  sense  ebbed  away  with 
his  blood.  Then  Sir  Rohan  essayed  oratory  and 
statesmanship;  but  the  shape,  so  distinct  that  it 


SIR    ROHAN.  13 

seemed  as  if  others  too  must  see  it,  swayed  its 
long  arm  beside  him  as  he  spoke,  and  sobbed 
Banshee-like,  with  a  rustling  inspiration,  in  his 
pauses.  Sir  Rohan  left  the  bench  and  bar. 
Dissipation  opened  its  arms  to  receive  him,  mid- 
night drawing-rooms  were  proud  to  hold  him, 
gay  dances  wreathed  themselves  to  his  motions, 
rosy  cheeks  flushed  at  his  approach.  But  a 
pale  cheek  was  beside  the  rosy  ones,  an  airier 
form  glided  through  the  dancers  and  did  not 
disturb  the  set ;  and,  with  the  red  wine  before 
him,  a  long  white  finger  plunged  down  the  glass 
and  brought  up  the  glittering  trophy  of  a  golden 
ring.  Sir  Rohan  reformed.  Yet  perhaps  in 
the  dry  recesses  of  old  libraries  he  might  be 
alone,  and  so  he  delved  deep  among  musty 
tomes,  striving  to  bury  his  heart  with  the  dust 
of  ages  that  he  found  there ;  but  another  hand 
shifted  the  leaves  as  he  read,  and  eyes  devoid  of 
speculation  met  his  as  he  unconsciously  turned 
for  sympathy  in  the  page.  When  on  some  rude 
map  he  traced  the  route  of  conquerors,  another 
finger  followed  his,  pointing  out  spots  at  which 
he  did  not  glance,  and  resting  wearily  on  places 
he  would  gladly  have  blotted  from  existence ; 


14  SIE  ROHAN'S  GHOST. 

and  as  his  eye  wandered  in  quest  of  some  de- 
sired volume  on  higher  shelves,  the  Ghost  flut- 
tered up  and  down  below  it.  Sir  Kohan  left 
literature. 

Was  there,  then,  nothing  in  which  this  haunted 
man  could  bury  himself?  He,  who  was  in  no 
wise  else  a  coward,  here  followed  the  beck  and 
call  of  a  nameless  fear,  a  shrouded  and  indis- 
tinct influence,  that  forbade  adventure  and  ex- 
ploit, and  with  a  cold,  bold  hand  played  jarring 
discords  on  his  heart-strings,  and  fought  perpet- 
ually with  the  strong  heroic  ambition  that  op- 
posed it.  To  the  lustre  of  a  great  name  Sir 
Rohan  would  fain  have  added  further  brilliance, 
but  to  good  deeds  and  the  gentle  sway  of 
charity  and  pity  he  never  once  thought  of  ap- 
plying this  impulsive  and  superfluous  energy ; 
and  since  the  Ghost  stood  at  every  other  avenue, 
(and  mayhap  at  this  as  well,)  his  life  bade  fail- 
to  vapor  itself  away  into  visions  as  idle  as  those 
of  the  early  fog.  For  him  the  earth  had  lost 
its  beauty,  the  shade  of  mystical  woods  no 
longer  allured,  nor  did  the  dash  of  free  waters 
exhilarate;  the  sky  was  robbed  of  its  slanting 
sunshine,  down  whose  beams  had  once  slid  glo- 


SIR    ROHAN.  15 

rious  forces  of  young  life  and  strength  to  join 
his  own  aspirations ;  a  dark  miasma  seemed  to 
have  risen  and  blotted  out  the  blue,  and  with 
the  Tipspringing  of  its  fathomless  arch  his  soul 
never  once  rose,  for  he  carried  his  eyes  on  the 
ground,  as  one  who  gropes  darkly  step  by  step. 

Was  Sir  Rohan  hypochondriac  ?  Was  his  Ghost 
but  the  indigestion  of  numerous  rich  dinners  ? 
Was  it  some  unwhisperable  remorse  that  clothed 
him,  still  living,  in  a  pall  ?  Or  was  it  any  restless 
honor  that  glamoured  ceaselessly  across  his  strain- 
ing sight  ? 

Be  that  as  it  may,  he  consulted  neither  priest 
nor  leech ;  for  disease  is  to  be  cured  only  by  those 
who  know  its  seat  and  cause,  and  how  many  in 
the  world  —  or  out  of  it  —  that  number  might 
include,  Sir  Rohan  himself  best  knew. 

In  rare,  cool  evenings,  when  peace  fell  with  the 
dew,  and  the  flute  of  the  crickets  sweetened 
silence,  what  had  this  man  but  his  Ghost  ?  When 
the  snows  folded  earth  and  sky  in  plumy  white- 
ness, what  fell  with  the  flakes,  changing  and 
wavering  at  every  gusty  flock,  but  always  the 
Ghost?  What  pleasure  was  for  him,  though  Na- 
ture took  him  by  the  hand  and  led  him  through 


16  SIR  ROHAN'S  GHOST. 

her  flowery  labyrinths,  unrolling  her  arcana  gor- 
geous with  scutcheons  of  purpose  and  perform- 
ance, and  filling  him  with  the  lore  of  her  mystic 
ways,  when  the  Ghost  also  had  the  keys,  turned 
them  softly  in  the  wards,  and  entered  with  him, 
diffusing  her  dark  effluence  over  all  things,  like  a 
blot  ?  What  cup  ever  brimmed  at  his  lips,  but 
the  Ghost  had  first  distilled  her  drop  of  refined 
poison  there  ?  He  was  a  man  into  whose  compo- 
sition large  passion  and  quick  resolution  had  en- 
tered; but  now,  like  a  cloud  borrowing  shape 
from  the  underlying  promontory,  as  if  she  were 
real,  he  fleeting  and  false,  he  forsook  all  choice, 
assumed  her  shifting  habit,  and  veered  with  the 
veering  Ghost. 


II. 

OVER    THE    HILLS    AND    FAR    AWAY. 

ONE  summer  day,  buried  in  the  deep  ferns 
of  a  high  common,  the  warm,  sweet  breeze 
streaming  in  long  wafts  above  him,  many  hours 
he  lay  fingering  restlessly  at  the  little  mosses  and 
dainty  violets,  —  face  downward,  lest  glancing  up 
he  should  see  the  Ghost  where  she  sat,  so  white 
and  thin  that  the  sunshine  fell  through  her  delicate 
texture  upon  the  flowers  he  touched,  her  fingers 
lying  wearily  also  upon  the  violets,  while  her  sad 
eyes  weighed  him  down  with  their  flickering  but 
tireless  gaze.  The  hum  of  innumerable  insects 
rose  around  him,  and  the  long  emerald  lances 
of  strange  flies  hurtled  beyond;  now  and  then 
a  lark  dropped  a  strain  of  song  down  from  some 
covert  in  the  skies,  or  a  nightingale  in  its  low 
nest  twittered  faintly  through  the  noon  a  breath 
of  melody,  and  hushed  itself  again.  Sir  Rohan's 

2*  B 


18  SIR  ROHAN'S  GHOST. 

heart,  which  had  been  so  long  torpid,  opened 
anew,  and  became  warmed  and  filled  with  the 
sweet  influences  of  nature ;  the  richness  of  the 
matured  year,  in  the  gorgeous  pageant  of  its 
summer,  defiled  across  his  senses ;  all  the  beauty 
to  which  he  had  been  insensible  unsheathed  itself 
and  flashed  through  his  soul ;  the  growth  of  a 
weary  while  at  last  accomplished  itself,  and  in 
the  long  hours  of  that  balmy  day  he  believed 
the  artist  to  have  been  born.  Years  seemed  to 
have  passed  since  he  wandered  out  upon  the 
common,  and  the  early  morning,  with  its  dew 
and  fragrance,  loomed  as  far  off  as  the  purple 
inlands  do  to  sea-coast  mariners ;  again  he  had 
a  purpose. 

Eefusing  to  give  credence  to  the  doubt  that 
the  Ghost  could  not  thus  be  laid,  he  rose  and 
pursued  his  way  with  uplifted  head  and  elastic 
step ;  nor  was  he  conscious  how  steadily  he  gazed 
before  him,  turning  neither  to  right  nor  left,  lest 
the  accursed  object  should  meet  his  eyes,  nor 
how  unequal  the  quick  beatings  of  his  heart 
made  the  chant  he  hummed,  and,  lest  any  rustle 
and  flow  of  drapery  beside  him  should  fill  its 
intervals,  that  he  hummed  unbrokenly.  Under 


OVER    THE    HILLS    AND     FAR    AWAY.         19 

his  doorway,  he  paused  and  turned  back  a  glance 
on  the  gathering  twilight.  A  cold  touch  fell 
upon  his  wrist,  growing  bolder  till  the  long  fin- 
gers closed  their  icy  grasp  around  it ;  constrained, 
he  met  the  shadowy  eyes  that  hovered  and  grew 
still  close  before  his  own.  A  bale-fire  for  a  mo- 
ment glowed  within  them,  fading  to  a  dead  glare 
and  then  sinking  into  obscurity,  while  the  ap- 
palling grasp  loosened,  the  touch  ceased,  and 
through  the  darkness  of  the  night  nothing  was 
to  be  seen  but  the  evening  star  hanging  and 
trembling  just  above  the  gray  horizon.  Perhaps 
it  was  the  Ghost's  farewell.  A  new  sense  of 
freedom  suffused  his  being,  and  he  laughed  a 
long  and  bitter  laugh  as  he  leaned  scornfully 
against  the  wall.  Could  the  Ghost  have  left  a 
companionship  such  as  that?  Perhaps  by  ab- 
sence she  renewed  her  power,  or  peradventure 
she  was  journeying. 

That  night  Sir  Rohan  slept  well,  and  as  if 
bathed  in  rejuvenescence  he  met  the  morning 
light,  full  of  fresh  strength  and  courage.  A 
tedious  initiation  lay  before  him,  but  he  had  pa- 
tience for  it,  since  true  genius  is  well  content  to 
wear  the  harness  for  a  while,  that  its  strength 


20  SIR  ROHAN'S  GHOST. 

may  be  made  available,  —  and  so  at  first  he  groped 
that  he  at  last  might  soar. 

Time  was  valueless  to  him ;  and  whatever  hours 
elapsed  ere  he  had  mastered  his  art,  he  did  not 
count  them,  but  in  his  freedom,  and  as  he  would 
say,  drawing  in  his  breath  exultingly,  in  his  sol- 
itude, he  began  and  pursued  his  task.  Day  by 
day  found  him  before  his  easel.  The  first  song 
of  dawn  spread  softest  shades  of  unattainable 
color  before  his  thought,  the  vertical  rays  of 
noon  toned  his  visions  down  to  subdued  splen- 
dor, and  sunset  found  and  gave  him  those  bril- 
liant dyes  in  which  few  artists  have  dipped  the 
brush.  Sir  Rohan's  reach  was  high  indeed ; 
what  he  brought  down  and  spread  upon  his  can- 
vas he  hardly  dared  hope  would  prove  commen- 
surate with  his  conceptions,  nor  that  he  could 
make  others  see  what  to  him  had  such  distinct 
and  beautiful  reality. 

It  was  merely  an  ideal,  allegoric  in  its  nature, 
on  which  he  at  last  expended  the  mature  flow 
of  his  skill  and  imagination.  Through  it  he 
designed  to  illustrate  a  truth,  although  he  had 
not  sufficiently  freed  his  mind  —  unbiased  enough 
generally  —  from  the  puerile  conceits  of  fancy- 


OVER    THE    HILLS    AND    FAR    AWAY.         21 

sketches,  and  thus  his  outline  was  neither  origi- 
nal nor  spirited ;  and  while  acknowledging  this, 
he  triumphed  in  the  power  he  found  to  suffuse 
and  impregnate  it  with  an  indescribable  pomp 
and  lustre.  His  whole  heart  was  in  his  work. 
The  Ghost  had  apparently  vanished,  or  if  her 
spell,  so  long  his  death  in  life,  ever  entered  his 
memory,  he  laughed  joyously  at  the  present  and 
most  mockingly  at  the  past,  thoroughly  despising 
his  old  and  pitiable  weakness.  He  toiled  con- 
stantly, and  no  thought  not  inspired  by  his  paint- 
ing possessed  him.  He  seemed  to  have  wrung 
the  hues  he  used  from  the  very  heart  of  Nature. 
Sunsets,  concentrating  their  glow,  rendered  more 
radiant  by  the  prismatic  dews  of  sunrise,  deep- 
ened, softened,  and  mellowed  by  the  purple  ten- 
derness of  twilight  tints,  could  not  be  more 
gorgeous  than  the  ineffable  magic  he  evoked. 
Magic  ?  Once  or  twice  Sir  Rohan  almost  trem- 
bled at  mysterious  moments  when,  after  pro- 
ducing any  great  effect,  he  felt  the  silent  air  of 
his  room  pulsate,  as  it  were,  around  him,  drawing 
away  and  contracting  again  as  if  a  vacuum  had 
been  there  created,  while  after  every  such  occur- 
rence a  pressure  of  which  he  had  frequently  been 


22  SIR  ROHAN'S  GHOST. 

conscious  was  removed.  Often  prolonging  his 
delight  till  the  place  was  filled  with  shadows,  he 
discerned  a  brighter  atmosphere  around  himself, 
in  whose  pale,  uncertain  illumination  he  worked, 
while  jets  of  white  light,  like  little  tongues  of 
flame,  gathered  and  flowed  from  his  brush  into 
the  picture.  Something  in  his  own  performance, 
unfinished  though  it  was,  appalled  him ;  and  at 
such  moments  he  wrought  only  more  vehemently 
and  unshrinkingly,  —  never  in  the  morning,  how- 
ever, undoing  what  he  felt  to  be  the  inspiration 
of  the  twilight  before. 

And  yet  he  was  not  quite  free  of  the  Ghost. 
Perhaps  it  was  not  possible  thus  violently  to  pass 
from  one  such  state  to  another  not  less  peculiar 
and  intense,  or  perhaps  his  imagination  now  and 
then  conjured  up  a  semblance,  languid  and  wan 
indeed,  of  what  had  been  a  weary  fact  of  his 
existence.  Still  more  likely  it  is  that  the  sharp- 
ness of  his  distress  had  become  dulled  by  use, 
and  he  felt  it  as  a  part  of  himself;  so  much  so, 
that,  having  fallen  to  a  stagnant  depression,  relief 
from  this  incubus  would  result  in  a  bewildering 
buoyancy.  He  endeavored  ceaselessly  to  forget. 

Truly  precious  things,  in  art  as  in  nature,  are 


OVER    THE    HILLS    AND    FAB    AWAY.         23 

seldom  spontaneous,  but  require  growth  and  de- 
liberation beyond  the  germ;  and  thus  Sir  Rohan, 
who  carried  his  method  into  all  this,  had  once 
laid  aside  his  implements,  and  was  considering 
the  law  of  combinations  and  equivalents,  when 
he  felt  what  at  first  was  a  stream  of  cool  breath 
across  his  closed  eyelids,  slowly  increasing  to  a 
cold  but  almost  imperceptible  finger-touch.  If 
this  were  the  old  shadow,  how  much  of  its  power 
was  lost! 

Frequently,  while  at  his  work,  he  had  a  per- 
ception of  certain  harmonious  properties  of  the 
universe,  and  more  particularly  of  those  particles 
composing  the  atmosphere,  which  seemed  to  emit 
one  vast  gentle  accord  as  they  moved  interfluently 
among  themselves.  So  perfect  and  integral  must 
this  harmony  be,  Sir  Rohan  reasoned,  that  unless 
when  disturbed  by  some  extraneous  or  adverse 
influence  it  is  imperceptible  to  mortal  ears ;  and 
thus,  whenever  heard  by  him,  he  knew  that  the 
vibrations  were  audible  only  by  means  of  this 
dissonant  and  divulsive  presence,  as  hostile,  it 
appeared,  to  the  kind  forces  of  nature  as  to 
him.  At  the  time  when  his  eyes  felt  these  cold 
finger-tips,  he  became  aware  also  of  this  outer 


24  SIR  ROHAN'S  GHOST. 

harmony  throbbing  in  long  rhythmical  waves  of 
finest  sound,  as  if  drawn  from  silver  wires  by  a 
low,  hot  wind.  This  was  unapproachable,  almost 
infinite;  on  all  sides  of  him  he  heard  a  chord 
produced  perhaps  millions  of  cycles  away,  but 
on  its  bosom  and  overtopping  it  like  the  foam 
on  a  long  sea-swell,  the  atoms  of  air  immediately 
in  contact  with  himself  seemed  each  to  drop  a 
golden  note  of  full  music  down,  till  a  distinct 
melody,  bursting  with  tune  and  modulated  by 
this  grand  spheric  accompaniment,  panted  along 
the  hot  summer  noon. 

Opening  his  eyes,  Sir  Rohan  saw  nothing  but 
the  vacant  room,  the  great  vases  of  blossoms 
drooping  in  the  sultry  heat,  which  he  constantly 
kept  for  the  rich  tints  and  suggestions  of  color- 
ing they  afforded,  the  wide-open  window  with  the 
distantly  russet  hills  through  it  drawing  down 
veils  of  paler  mist  to  the  valleys  in  their  bosom, 
and  the  cloudless  sky  that  bent  its  ardent  arch 
and  with  fiery  languors  kissed  the  nearer  sum- 
mits till  they  smoked.  No  wind  stirred  any  little 
branch ;  no  actual  murmur  broke  the  spell,  if 
spell  it  was ;  but  still  the  mighty  music  surged 
on,  blending  with  his  breath,  with  his  heart-beat, 


OVER    THE    HILLS    AND    FAR    AWAY.         25 

and  neither  ceasing  suddenly  nor  dying  away ; 
perhaps  it  touched  the  key-note  of  sleep,  for  over 
his  perturbation  a  drowsiness  wrapped  itself,  and 
erelong  he  slept.  Sleeping,  Sir  Rohan  naturally 
dreamed. 

To  his  artistic  eye,  so  long  exercised  upon 
material  form,  the  dream  assumed  the  distinct 
peopling  of  a  series  of  vivid  views,  rather  than 
the  vague  and  edgeless  fantasies  of  usual  sleep, 
although  during  the  first  few  moments  of  its 
duration  he  saw  only  five  fine  black  lines  or 
wires  drawn  across  a  gray  profound,  and  bear- 
ing, in  a  certain  order,  musical  characters  of  fire, 
each  one  of  which,  as  he  read  its  tone,  grew 
brighter  an  instant,  imparting  its  blaze  to  the 
next,  until  he  read  the  perfect  score  of  the  mel- 
ody to  which  he  was  listening  but  a  moment 
before.  Some  strange  words,  long  lost,  hummed 
along  his  memory ;  and  as  he  delivered  himself 
further  to  the  guidance  of  his  dream,  they  also 
became  as  audible  as  the  music  which  they  joined. 

In  the  summer  even 

While  yet  the  dew  was  hoar, 
I  went  plucking  purple  pansies 

Till  my  love  should  come  to  shore. 
3 


26  SIR  ROHAN'S  GHOST. 

The  fishing  lights  their  dances 

Were  keeping  out  at  sea, 
And  come,  I  sung,  my  true  love  ! 

Come  hasten  home  to  me. 

But  the  sea  it  fell  a-moaning, 

And  the  white  gulls  rocked  thereon, 
And  the  young  moon  dropt  from  heaven, 

And  the  lights  hid  one  by  one. 
All  silently  their  glances 

Slipt  down  the  cruel  sea, 
And  wait !  cried  the  night  and  wind  and  storm, 

Wait,  till  I  come  to  thee  ! 

By  what  sudden  change  accomplished  he  knew 
not,  nor  was  he  at  all  astonished  thereat,  when 
instead  of  the  bars  of  music  he  was  aware  of  a 
still  picture  of  low-country  life.  A  canal  sweep- 
ing its  umberous  waters  slowly  onward  through 
banks  lined  with  the  green  sunshine  of  early 
willows,  and  down  toward  a  low  stone  bridge 
whose  twin  arches  spanned  the  turbid  flow  and 
broke  it,  ere  reaching  the  narrow  pier,  into  nu- 
merous long  ripples.  Beyond,  the  country  was 
one  level  expanse,  clothed  in  the  vivid  pestilential 
green  of  fens  and  marshes,  and  above,  a  calm 
sky  belted  at  the  horizon  with  a  low,  brilliant 
west.  Leaning  over  the  bridge,  a  female  figure 


OVER    THE    HILLS    AND    FAR    AWAY.         27 

tall  and  lithe,  clad  in  some  sober  gray,  her  white 
cap  hanging  by  its  ribbons  down  one  shoulder, 
and  her  dark  unbraided  hair  blowing  in  long 
tresses  against  the  zone  of  sunset ;  in  her  hand 
a  bunch  of  reeds,  which  she  trailed  in  the  broken 
ripples.  So  exact  the  lines  of  this  Flemish  pic- 
ture, that  Sir  Rohan  saw  clearly  defined  the 
black  shadow  which  fine  separate  lashes  threw 
over  large  gray  eyes,  and  the  delicate  confusion 
of  palest  olive  and  ruddiest  peach  upon  the  oval 
cheek.  The  presence  at  a  distance  of  another 
person,  a  dark,  slender  youth  with  arrested  atten- 
tion, Sir  Rohan  felt  rather  than  saw,  although 
he  caught  the  glitter  of  a  ring  of  curious  device 
upon  the  latter 's  hand,  and  felt  certain  that  the 
eyes  of  the  two  had  met,  when  through  her 
parted  lips  he  heard,  as  if  for  the  first  time, 
the  tune  dreamily  trilling, — 

I  went  plucking  purple  pansies 
Till  my  love  should  come  to  shore. 

And  the  long  gray  ripples,  growing  fainter  and 
darker,  seemed  to  murmur  responsively,  as  they 
swept  onward  with  divided  currents,  — 

Wait !  cried  the  night  and  wind  and  storm, 
Wait,  till  I  come  to  thee ! 


28  SIR  ROHAN'S  GHOST. 

How  quickly  the  night  fell  on  this  scene,  nor 
by  what  means  the  low-country  canal  became  a 
narrow  rural  lane  winding  between  high  stone 
walls,  over  which  luxuriant  hops  clambered  and 
hung  their  blossoming  sprays  and  bunches  of 
greenery  on  the  other  side,  Sir  Rohan  did  not 
pause  to  consider.  Nor  did  he  wonder  at  see- 
ing the  soberly-clad  girl  wandering  lingeringly 
down  its  avenue,  arm  in  arm  with  the  shadowy 
youth,  till  some  great  bars  opposed  their  pro- 
gress ;  nor,  as  she  mounted  the  stile  beside  them, 
did  he  wonder  at  seeing  the  ring  of  curious  de- 
vice shining,  this  time,  on  her  hand,  nor  at  the 
utterly  happy  gleam  from  her  loving  eyes  as  she 
turned  to  him  standing  below  and  holding  a  little 
bunch  of  violets  and  rue  that  had  lain  in  her 
breast.  An  indistinct  sorrow  stole  over  Sir  Rohan 
as  he  saw  the  head  crowned  with  its  royal  braid, 
the  face  with  its  sunshine  and  beauty,  the  whole 
vignette,  recede  and  fade  away  to  somber est  mist, 
leaving  nothing  but  the  bars  growing  more  and 
more  distant,  while  gigantic  notes  of  light  started 
into  flashes  on  their  surface  and  thundered  the 
old  melody  through  his  bewildered  ears.  There 
succeeded  an  interval  of  serenest  rest,  ere  into 


OVER    THE    HILLS    AND    FAB    AWAY.         29 

Sir  Rohan's  dream  quietly  stole  the  same  figures 
again, — the  same,  yet  different.  The  quiet  gown, 
the  simple  cap,  were  gone ;  the  lady  trailed  rus- 
tling satins  over  whose  majestic  folds  the  gloss 
of  golden  intricacies  of  needlework  sparkled  and 
deadened  as  she  walked.  Jewels,  which  might 
be  the  heirlooms  of  untainted  ancestry,  lay  on 
her  bare  white  bosom  and  encircled  her  brow, 
and  the  ring  of  curious  device  still  flashed  on 
her  snowy  hand.  Her  eyes,  glowing  with  pas- 
sion, bent  on  the  face  of  her  companion  as  they 
wound  slowly  up  the  outer  turret  stair  in  a 
broad  dash  of  moonlight,  his  arm  supporting  her 
waist  and  his  eyes  meeting  her  own.  Around 
them  lay  a  different  landscape.  Long  sweeps 
of  moors,  dun  and  dark,  like  petrified  sea-swells ; 
mountains  distantly  grand  and  shadowy ;  a  mighty 
river  lapsing  down  to  meet  its  bridge  of  a  hun- 
dred arches,  and  its  flickering  silver  masts  ;  the 
ocean  clamoring  his  eternal  sorrow  from  wine- 
dark  depths,  and  with  white,  speechless  lips  of 
angry  froth  forever  lapping  the  cliffs  and  crags 
far  up  along  the  northward.  But  the  dreamer 
feels  that  the  lovers  see  none  but  each  other, 
and  as  the  old  tune  creeps  up  from  gulfs  of 

3* 


30 


silence,  lie  sees  the  youth  gaze  for  a  moment 
inland  over  those  dim  hills,  and  hum  half  to 
himself :  — 

"  En  un  verde  prado 
De  rosas  c  florcs, 
Guardando  ganado 
Con  otros  pastores, 
La  vi  tan  fermosa 

Que  apenas  creycra 

Que  fucse  vaquera 
De  la  Einojosa  !  " 

A  breathless,  silent  rapture  seemed  stealing  over 
this  part  of  Sir  Rohan's  dream,  as  if  he  himself 
were  an  actor  of  its  wordless  drama,  —  an  inner 
intense  glee,  to  which  he  had  perhaps  been  alien 
for  many  years.  Let  us  believe  that  in  the  dream, 
as  in  life,  this  moment  of  joy  found  its  equivalent 
of  pain.  While  he  paused  to  turn  it  over  in  his 
thought,  and  extract  the  last  sweet  relish  of  its 
flavor,  the  illusive  phantasmagoria  existed  no 
longer ;  and  when  next  the  tide  of  sleep  thinned 
itself,  he  saw  a  long,  low-browed  room,  wainscoted 
in  oak,  uncarpeted,  and  fitted  with  furniture  of  an 
antique  pattern.  One  only  window  lighted  it,  —  a 
Gothic  oval,  and  unglazed,  so  that  the  vines  and 
sweet-briers,  climbing  without,  twisted  their  ten- 


OVER    THE    HILLS    AND    FAR    AWAY.         31 

drils  into  the  crevices,  and  tossed  their  tempting 
garniture  within.  Midway  of  the  room,  and  in 
the  broad  beam  of  yellow  sunshine  that  thus  fell 
through,  sat  the  female  figure  of  his  dream.  Gar- 
ments of  dark  purple  wrapped  and  swept  around 
her,  the  masses  of  her  purple  black  hair  were 
looped  heavily  in  their  hateful  weight,  her  eyes 
were  larger  and  more  hollow  by  reason  of  their 
purple  rims  ;  she  sat  half  bent  forward,  her  white 
hands,  still  sparkling  with  that  single  ring,  clasped 
across  her  knee,  and  a  dead  despair  settling  slowly 
like  a  pall  above  her.  If  there  were  any  other  in 
that  room,  gloomy  in  spite  of  its  sunshine,  Sir 
Rohan's  dream  obstinately  refused  to  recognize 
him.  It  seemed  a  weary  age  that,  fascinated  by 
the  mute  tragedy,  he  recalled  and  gazed  upon  its 
action ;  but  while  he  gazed,  the  thick  palpitations 
of  his  heart  so  shook  and  disordered  him  that  the 
air  wavered  and  trembled  around  him,  bright 
specks  danced  in  the  shadows,  a  mist  crept  be- 
tween him  and  herself,  the  room  opened  and 
spread  its  dark  sides  indefinitely  into  duskiness, 
the  rush  of  great  waters  was  in  his  ears,  and  when 
he  recovered  his  vision  he  saw  only  long  black 
hair  sweeping  headlong  down  the  current,  a 


32  SIR  ROHAN'S  GHOST. 

ghastly  face  whose  eyes,  hard  as  pebbles  in  a 
brook,  reflected  no  light  as  they  sunk  beneath  the 
hurrying  stream,  a  white  arm  clinging  round  a 
floating  branch,  a  hand  gleaming  with  the  ring  of 
curious  device,  obscurely,  as  it  washed  downward 
through  the  roar  and  eddy  of  this  river  of  the 
North.  How  it  seemed  only  the  low  canal,  hun- 
dreds of  miles  away,  flowing  on  to  meet  its  bridge, 
while  the  voice  of  the  ripples,  setting  in  black 
angry  swirls  round  the  single  pier,  seemed  to 
repeat  the  words  with  a  harsh  sudden  cadence  ; 
nor  why,  when  with  a  dreadful  start  it  all  van- 
ished, and  he  knew  only  the  Ghost,  his  own  Ghost, 
standing  before  him  and  singing  from  the  score, 
loud  and  clear,  while  her  hard  eyes  transfixed 
him, 

"Wait !  cried  the  night  and  wind  and  storm, 
Wait,  till  I  come  to  thee  ! 

Sir  Kohan  never  wondered, — but  with  a  groan 
grew  faint  and  dizzy  in  his  sleep,  and  suffered  this 
dreamy  sense  to  reel  away  from  him.  What  a 
shiver  seized  him  then !  what  a  noise  was  in  his 
brain !  how  thunderously  his  weary  heart  beat 
forward  on  its  way  !  with  what  a  fierce  quaking 
he  sprung  into  the  centre  of  the  room,  nor  felt 


OVER    THE    HILLS    AND    FAB    AWAY.        33 

relief  at  finding  it  a  dream !  The  sun  had  hardly 
declined  a  degree,  the  noon  was  not  less  sultry,  no 
softer  shade  enveloped  any  object ;  he  had  whirled 
through  the  great  eddy  of  his  youth,  he  had 
ploughed  and  reaped  the  seed  whose  fruit  he  was 
never  to  exhaust,  and  he  had  slept  ten  minutes. 

Doggedly  he  examined  his  pencils,  ground  more 
oil  into  his  browns,  and  again  feverishly  busied 
himself  over  what  was  now  his  solace.  Glancing 
upward,  he  noticed  with  a  thrill  of  horror  that 
the  eyes  of  the  picture  —  for  it  was  no  landscape 
—  emitted  such  a  green,  hard  glare  as  had  lately 
pierced  him.  Indeed,  he  had  painted  them  gray. 
Without  pausing  to  regret  the  care  he  had  be- 
stowed on  their  finish,  the  artist  raised  his  brush 
with  one  stroke  to  obliterate  them,  when  he  re- 
flected that  such  procedure  would  utterly  ruin 
any  chance  of  obtaining  succeeding  transparency 
and  brilliance,  besides  fouling  the  delicacy  of 
touch  which  his  after  work  should  wear.  Perhaps 
scraping  would  answer  as  well.  But  the  palette- 
knife  and  even  sharper  instruments  were  of  no 
avail,  for  he  remembered  what  powerful  siccatives 
had  been  employed,  and  the  impenetrable  varnish 
of  sandarach  and  poppy-oil  with  which,  in  order 


34  SIR  ROHAN'S  GHOST. 

to  preserve  the  primal  freshness  and  bloom  of  the 
tints,  he  had  early  overlaid  this  portion  of  his 
work.  Neither  acid  nor  alkali  weakened  the 
unendurable  stare  ;  and  still  throbbing  from  his 
dream,  perplexed  and  baffled,  he  felt  as  if  reason 
would  desert  him  did  he  fail  in  effacing  its  chance. 
Had  the  Ghost  almost  left  him  free,  that  he  should 
perpetuate  her  eyes  upon  his  canvas  ?  Exasper- 
ated, he  seized  a  vial  of  inflammable  oil,  intend- 
ing by  its  means  to  burn  off  the  obnoxious  surface, 
thus  endangering  the  blossom  of  many  years' 
labor,  when  the  lazily  ascending  smoke  of  a  distant 
lime-kiln  caught  his  eye  and  suggested  a  new 
remedy.  He  hesitated  a  moment,  half  fearing  to 
leave  those  eyes  alone,  and  then,  laughing  at  him- 
self, went  out  quickly  and  closed  the  door. 

Intent  on  his  moody  thoughts,  and  regardless 
of  the  heat,  he  walked  swiftly  forward,  meeting 
in  his  way  but  one  face,  —  and  that  a  handsome 
one,  flashing  on  him  from  a  travelling-chariot 
that  lumbered  along  the  rarely  frequented  high- 
way, —  till  he  reached  his  destination ;  when 
having  obtained  a  small  quantity  of  lime,  and 
wasting  no  words  on  the  burners,  he  betook 
himself  homeward.  It  was  a  half-hour's  rapid 


OVER    THE    HILLS    AND    PAR    AWAY.        35 

walk ;  on  one  side,  across  some  sterile  fields,  the 
sea  running  in  long,  low  lines  up  a  yellow 
beach,  and  filling  the  air  with  an  unbroken 
drowsy  drone.  But  the  sea  did  not  attract  Sir 
Rohan's  regard;  indeed,  lest  its  advancing  wash 
should  throw  some  rejected  secret  from  its 
bosom,  he  turned  his  eyes  on  the  other  hand, 
where,  across  the  neglected  lands  and  luxuriant 
woods  of  his  own  estate,  rose  the  chimney-stacks 
of  the  lonely  house.  No  living  thing,  it  seemed 
to  him,  ever  crossed  his  path ;  he  suspected  that 
the  grass  ceased  growing  in  his  footsteps,  yet 
did  not  marvel  why  beneath  the  fervors  of  the 
noon,  the  Ghost,  alone  unwearied,  refused  to 
join  the  universal  spell  of  rest  and  hush.  At 
last,  re-entering  at  a  postern  door,  he  again 
sought  his  work. 

Having  slaked  and  mixed  the  lime  with  a 
strong  mineral  alkali,  he  plastered  it  upon  the 
part  to  be  destroyed,  not  heeding  a  faint  rap 
on  the  door,  and  turned  to  other  details  yet 
unfinished.  But  till  success  in  this  was  assured, 
he  found  it  impossible  to  proceed,  and  threw 
down  his  implements  in  anger.  It  would  then 
be  many  hours  ere  he  could  resume  his  task,  and, 


36 


having'  generally  employed  the  strong  meridian 
light,  he  found  himself  suddenly  at  a  loss  for 
occupation.  Accordingly,  remembering  the  timid 
rap  of  the  old  steward  whose  application  had 
met  with  usual  success,  and  designing  after- 
ward to  employ  himself  in  the  greenhouse,  so 
called,  which  alone  of  all  his  former  luxuries  he 
retained,  Sir  Rohan  opened  his  door,  and  trav- 
ersing the  hall,  partially  descended  a  broad, 
winding  staircase. 


III. 

MIRIAM. 

IT  was  a  long  time  since  he  had  entered  these 
grand  districts  of  the  house,  and,  closed  and 
deserted,  the  walls  had  gathered  damp,  the 
panels  dust,  the  whole  region  a  funereal  gloom. 
As  he  looked  down,  he  saw  without  surprise, 
since  he  had  grown  incapable  of  such  emotion, 
that  the  gay  curtains  and  carpets  were  dim  and 
faded,  the  ornaments  fallen  from  their  brackets, 
and  thick,  silvery,  shaking  webs  woven  from  cor- 
nice to  cornice  of  the  long  drawing-room.  He 
saw  without  a  shudder  the  rare  cast  of  some 
antique  statue  staring  sad  and  forlorn  from  its 
nook  of  tarnished  tapestry,  like  a  corpse  risen 
with  the  mould  and  mire  of  the  grave  upon  it ; 
and  no  question  arose  in  his  mind  at  the  wide- 
open  hall  door,  and  the  sweet,  fresh  draught  bear- 
ing thence  through  the  close  rooms.  Still  look- 


38  SIR  ROHAN'S   GHOST. 

ing  down,  as  if  under  the  influence  of  another 
dream  that  made  him  motionless,  his  eye  rested 
011  a  figure  standing  by  the  old  clavichord,  and 
he  waited  till  the  dream  should  pass  and  the 
spell  loosen  its  chain.  A  girl,  tall  and  in  the 
gloom,  standing  by  the  old  clavichord  and  noise- 
lessly moving  her  fingers  over  the  stained  keys. 
Had  he  seen  her  before  ? 

A  singular  face,  totally  destitute  of  any  roseate 
glow,  but  by  no  means  wan, —  rather,  one  would 
say,  a  soft,  creamy  skin  that  should  not  be  other- 
wise. The  chin  extremely  short  and  upturned  ; 
the  mouth  compensating  for  some  width  by  rich, 
velvet  curves  and  handsome  teeth,  the  upper 
lip  a  haughty,  disdainful  feature  ;  the  nose  well 
moulded,  with  thin  nostrils,  and  occupying  more 
than  its  classical  third  in  length.  A  face  whose 
first  impression  was  one  of  peculiar  loveliness, 
the  next,  a  captious  sentiment  that  it  was 
greatly  too  wide ;  but  few,  perhaps,  saw  it  with- 
out recurring  to  the  first.  The  forehead  was 
low  and  wide,  the  dark  masses  of  hair  sweep- 
ing off  it  in  a  long  line,  till,  dropping  with  a 
sudden  wave  below  the  cheek,  they  were  looped 
up  again,  as  Sir  Kohan  had  seen  other  hair, 


MIRIAM.  30 

into  a  kind  of  crown-like  comb.  Eyebrows  fine, 
feuille-morte,  and  without  arch,  nearly  met 
across  this  face ;  and  beneath,  the  long-cut 
waxen  lids  were  heavily  fringed.  A  gleam  of 
sunlight  stole  timidly  through  an  open  shutter, 
and  then  in  a  broad  sheet  athwart  the  face,  as 
Sir  Rohan  observed  it.  The  girl  raised  her  lids 
in  the  abrupt  illumination.  Square  as  the  out- 
line might  be,  albeit  without  the  high  cheek- 
bones which  characterize  tliis  class  of  counte- 
nance, it  was  well  worth  while  if  that  were 
necessary  to  give  such  purport  and  range  and 
large  magnificence  to  the  eyes,  —  soft,  dark, 
lustrous,  and  bearing  a  dazzled  splendor  at  the 
light,  through  the  golden  warmth  it  imparted  to 
them.  Ah,  well !  Sir  Rohan  was  to  paint  other 
eyes  to-morrow. 

It  pleases  me  to  think  that  that  face,  now  so 
fair  and  soft,  never  lost  the  smooth,  olive  skin, 
even  through  the  season  of  a  long  life,  nor  sowed 
its  cares  in  wrinkles  when  they  grew  too  many 
for  the  heart  to  bear  alone ;  nor  that  those  eyes 
lost  their  brilliant  kindliness,  though  wearing  for- 
ever the  frightened  aspect  which  one  cruel  day 
was  to  give  them,  —  though  never,  when  the  snow 


40  SIK  ROHAN'S   GHOST. 

of  weary  years  lay  between  age  and  youth,  dar- 
ing to  look  back  and  sun  themselves  in  the 
gleam  of  any  lost  happiness,  —  though  borrowing 
all  their  joy  from  those  Beulah  hill-tops  which 
only  the  old  have  in  certain  prospect.  Yet  there 
was  something  in  the  face  which  led  you  not 
so  much  to  its  owner  as  its  authors,  till  you 
lost  yourself  conjecturing  under  what  conditions 
and  circumstances  it  had  obtained  life.  A  pecu- 
liar face,  —  had  Sir  Rohan  seen  it  before?  "Was 
it  his  Ghost,  come  in  tangible  form  —  but  was 
it  tangible  ?  Pshaw !  did  it  not  flash  on  him 
from  the  travelling-chariot?  Did  ghosts  wear 
long  cloaks  half  untied  and  pulling  apart  from 
the  confining  cord ;  or  gowns,  just  seen  beneath, 
of  a  fawn  brocade,  to  harmonize  with  the  other 
brown  shades ;  or  antique  jewels  and  a  moon- 
stone carcanet?  Did  ghosts  touch  the  uncom- 
pliant keys  of  clavichords,  and  entice  thence 
sweet,  unfamiliar  sounds  ?  Unfamiliar,  —  only 
too  well  known,  indeed !  Could  it  be  anything 
but  his  persistent  enemy  who  played,  with  the 
long,  slender  fingers  of  her  left  hand,  the  very 
melody  to  whose  tune  the  sorrow  of  his  life  had 
been  this  day  set?  The  sunshine  that  had  been 


MIRIAM.  41 

creeping  along  the  once  gorgeous  pattern  of  the 
floor,  nestling  and  mingling  with  the  yellow 
tinges  there,  stole  up  across  the  foot,  the  tall 
figure  whose  drapery  fluttered  in  the  increasing 
draft,  the  queenly  neck,  and  withdrew  behind  a 
cloud,  while  the  girl  began  humming  the  same 
tune  and  beating  a  gentle  time  with  her  head. 

Sir  Rohan,  recovered  himself,  concluding  that 
the  supernatural  was  not  an  agent  in  this  appa- 
rition. It  was  a  tune  common  enough  in  Kent, 
—  he  had  first  heard  it  there  ;  she  was  probably  a 
Kentish  girl,  too  charming  a  piece  of  flesh  and 
blood  ever  to  throw  off  for  filmy,  impalpable 
essence.  If  his  Ghost  came  in  that  shape,  she 
might  stay  while  she  pleased.  But  was  not  his 
Ghost  a  fairer  shape,  whose  dead  eclipsed  this 
living,  breathing  beauty  ?  Why  think  of  it  ? 
It  was  pleasure  enough,  for  one  revelling  in  form 
and  color,  only  to  gaze,  as  he  did,  on  the  pic- 
ture to  which  the  drawing-room  door  below  was 
frame ;  to  ask  by  what  means  she  had  entered 
his  house  did  not  occur  to  him.  Before  Sir  Ro- 
han began  to  reason,  the  tune  had  ceased,  and* 
while  he  gazed,  the  girl,  glancing  round,  glided 
up  the  apartment  out  of  sight.  He  remained  a 

4* 


42  SIR  ROHAN'S  GHOST. 

moment,  and  then,  half  doubting  himself,  stole 
back  upon  his  steps.  Two  questioning  eyes  in 
every  darker  shadow  sought  his  own,  and  a  long- 
drawn  sob  was  audible  beside  him,  as,  quick- 
ening his  motions,  he  sprang  up  the  stairs  and 
confronted  two  men  on  the  upper  landing ;  one 
was  his  gray-haired  steward. 

"I  have  been  seeking  your  worship,"  said  he, 
timorously,  but  without  reply,  for  the  other  had 
seized  Sir  Rohan's  hands,  and  was  pouring  forth 
rapid  question  and  answer  over  a  long-lost  friend. 

"  I  am  not  dreaming,  then ! "  said  Sir  Rohan 
unsteadily,  at  last.  "  This  is  you,  St.  Denys, 
and  your  daughter  below  ?  " 

"  I,  certainly,"  was  the  cheery  response,  "  and 
my  ward  below.  God  give  me  long  life !  for  the 
name  and  fame  of  St.  Denys  flow  to  a  rascal 
when  I  die." 

"  We  won't  talk  of  dying,"  said  Sir  Rohan, 
looking  behind  him  quickly,  "  and  while  we  live 
will  grasp  what  we  may.  How  did  you  find 
me?" 

"  In  the  simplest  way  conceivable.  We  lunched 
at  an  inn  yclept  the  Belvidere  Arms,  and,  remem- 
bering that  you  buried  yoiirself  at  one  time  in 


MIRIAM.  43 

Cornwall,  I  inquired  for  its  patron.  Still,  I  had 
difficulty  in  recognizing  our  gay  youth  in  one 
taciturn,  possessed  gentleman,  till  mine  host 
christened  him  Sir  Rohan  !  " 

The  old  man  had  withdrawn.  "  Something 
ails  you,  Rohan,"  said  his  friend.  "  You  are  in 
trouble  ! " 

"  The  weather  and  a  walk,"  was  the  hurried 
answer,  "  and  —  and  dyspepsia !  " 

"  Parent  of  all  blue  devils !  Come  down  to 
this  dungeon  of  yours,  into  which  I  have  taken 
the  liberty  of  inviting  some  sky,  alias  light  and 
air." 

"  My  friend  can  take  no  liberty  in  my  house." 

A  merry  bow  from  the  friend  prefaced  a  pre- 
scription for  good  health  and  spirits,  which  closed 
by  recommending  good  company.  "  For  which 
purpose  —  " 

"  The  sky  has  fallen  and  dropped  you  here." 

"  And  consequently  I  shall  see  a  rapid  im- 
provement in  Monsieur  le  Cadavre  !  " 

Sir  Rohan  shuddered  again.  "  I  am  better," 
he  said  directly,  "  already  better."  And  indeed 
his  friend  would  have  been  like  a  bracing  wind 
blowing  through  sultry  fever  regions,  did  not 


44  SIR  ROHAN'S  GHOST. 

his  unfortunate  choice  of  words  act  as  a  series 
of  electric  shocks,  constantly  thrilling  his  patient. 
By  this  time  they  were  in  the  drawing-room. 

"  This  is  a  drawing-room  of  the  Belvidere 
estate  in  Cornwall,  Sir  Rohan,"  said  his  friend. 
"  Probably  a  place  unfamiliar  to  you." 

"  I  should  be,  perhaps,  ashamed  to  say  that  a 
quinquenniad  has  passed  since  I  have  stood  in 
it,"  replied  he  whose  Ghost  had  at  least  taught 
him  to  discriminate  delicate  shades  of  truth. 

"  And  this  is  Miriam,  my  child." 

As  the  girl  turned  to  receive  his  salutation, 
he  extended  his  hand.  Shy  as  a  bird,  her  own 
dropped  into  it  an  instant,  and  brushed  away 
again.  Yet  there  was  something  positive  in  that 
slight  touch  ;  most  different  in  its  soft,  warm  sense 
from  the  gelid  grasp  that  had  so  often  met  his 
palm,  —  more  real  it  could  not  be. 

"  I  am  very  happy,"  said  he,  with  a  grave 
courtesy  which  had  lost  nothing  from  disuse,  "  in 
welcoming  the  child  of  St.  Denys  to  my  house, 
although  but  a  dreary  place  to  shelter  youth 
and  beauty." 

"  Well,  well,"  laughed  his  friend,  "  a  candle 
would  not  be  brilliant  in  sunny  windows." 


MIRIAM.  45 

"  But  she  has  brought  the  sun  in  with  her." 

Miriam  raised  her  large,  wary  eyes,  and,  throw- 
ing back  the  haughty  head,  surveyed  her  host 
with  quick  displeasure,  —  motions  which  did  not 
escape  Sir  Rohan. 

"  I  am  at  a  loss  as  to  what  title  — "  he  be- 
gan, turning  to  St.  Denys,  who  interrupted  him, 
saying,  as  he  laid  his  hand  caressingly  upon  her 
shoulder,  — 

"  No  need !  Since  the  morning  she  had  been 
sixteen  years  my  darling,  this  child  has  been 
afflicted  with  a  whim,  and  throws  off  my  name 
and  protection  and  love  —  " 

"  Not  your  love  or  your  protection,  father," 
she  murmured,  quickly. 

"  And  chooses,"  he  added,  "  to  be  known  only 
as  Miss  Miriam." 

"  And  why  ?  "  escaped  Sir  Rohan's  lips  before 
he  could  recall  it.  Yet  he  had  been  waiting  to 
hear  that  voice  address  him,  and  now  it  came, 
low,  clear,  and  full  of  inflections. 

"  Because  I  have  no  other  name,"  she  replied 
instantly,  and  with  a  proud  gesture  which  the 
possession  of  sixty  titles  could  not  have  enhanced. 
He  seemed  to  have  heard  it  elsewhere. 


46 


"  Pardon !  I  was  born  for  mistakes  on  this 
afternoon,  I  think." 

"Sir  Rohan,  Miriam,  was  my  friend  before 
you  knew  the  light,  and  seeing  less  and  less  of 
him  as  years  passed,  I  soon  saw  nothing.  In 
a  while  wondrous  rumors  reached  us  from  the 
corners  of  the  earth,  then  all  sounds  were  lost,  — 
and  here  he  is.  "Where  is  your  housekeeper, 
Rohan  ? "  with  a  quizzical  look  at  the  existing 
neglect. 

"  I  have  none.  My  steward's  maid  attends  to 
my  necessities." 

"  I  doubt  if  she  can  do  so  much  for  me !  " 

"  As  exacting  as  ever,"  returned  the  other, 
with  an  absent  smile.  "  We  will  soon  find  ser- 
vants enough." 

"  A  sorry  day  for  them,  if  spiders  can  make 
it,"  exclaimed  St.  Denys,  tossing  off  a  tawny 
Arachne  who  danced,  on  a  long-spun  thread  from 
the  dusky  ceiling,  across  his  face. 

"  And  if  I  confess  that  this  is  the  best  room 
I  have,  what  will  my  guests  think  ?  " 

"That  the  drawing-room  generally  occupies  that 
rank  among  apartments,  and  that  the  little  femi- 
nine element  so  bustling  in  my  home  may  effect, 


MIRIAM.  47 

by  your  permission,  a  slight  revolution  in  the 
shape  of  two  sleeping-rooms  here !  What  say 
you,  Miriam  ?  " 

"  If  Sir  Rohan  desire  it —  " 

"  By  no  means,"  said  Sir  Rohan.  "  The  young 
lady  is  wearied  with  her  journey.  It  will  be  un- 
necessary ; "  and  excusing  himself,  he  soon  found 
the  old  steward,  who  was  awaiting  him  in  anxiety 
of  mind. 

"Let  your  wife,  Redruth,  move  herself  and 
maids  up  here,  at  what  salary  you  please,"  said 
his  master.  "  Procure  other  servants  from  the 
village  at  once.  We  will  dine  at  six,  and  let  two 
bedchambers  be  cleansed  and  aired  by  twelve." 
Having  received  which  orders,  and  it  being  now 
nearly  four,  the  steward  scrambled  away  to  per- 
form impossibilities,  and  Sir  Rohan  ascended  to 
his  own  room.  Without  bestowing  a  glance  on 
his  painting,  he  wheeled  the  great  chair  out  upon 
the  landing,  and,  in  a  moment  after,  descended 
and  deposited  it  inside  the  drawing-room.  The 
yoimg  lady  was  walking  up  and  down,  with  her 
skirts  gathered  in  one  hand  from  the  floor,  and 
her  brow  wearing  an  expression  of  combined 
amusement  and  annoyance,  as  Sir  Rohan  opened 


48  SIR  ROHAN'S  GHOST. 

a  casement,  and  shoved  it  over  the  smooth  ter- 
race. 

"You  will  find  it  less  dusty  and  sufficiently 
cool,  Miss  Miriam,  without,  "he  said,  and  in  order 
to  conduct  her  there,  he  again  offered  his  hand. 
She  looked  round,  however,  for  his  friend,  and 
stepping  across  the  sill,  lightly  planted  St.  Denys 
in  the  chair,  and  took  her  own  seat  upon  the  turf 
at  his  feet.  "  She  's  tired,"  she  said  as  St.  Denys 
laid  her  head  against  the  cushions  of  the  chair, 
and,  dropping  the  lids  from  her  first  gaze  that 
crept  across  the  woods,  then  up  the  distant  fields 
to  the  lawn  below,  and  finally  rested  on  the  smooth 
cheek,  she  slept  the  deep  sleep  of  a  healthy  child. 

"  I  do  not  understand,"  said  Sir  Rohan,  leaning 
against  the  window.  "  Is  this  your  daughter  who 
says  father  to  you  ?  " 

"  You  are  very  slow,  then  !  "We  make  believe, 
as  children  do.  Seriously,  though,  you  know  I 
do  not  hold  in  chance,  and  thus  I  take  my  acci- 
dents as  commissions  from  God.  So  when  we 
heard  of  this  child,  then  some  five  weeks  old,  a 
foundling  in  the  house  of  a  tenant,  we  took  her 
home  ;  and  the  woman,  an  old  dame  who  had 
found  and  sheltered  the  babe  on  some  tramp  or 


MIRIAM.  49 

journey,  we  judged  would  be  the  best  nurse. 
And  she  has  been  God's  gift  to  sweeten  a  bitter 
draught  he  poured  out  for  me  not  long  after. 
So,  she  is  my  daughter." 

"It  is  many  years  since  we  met." 

"  That,  indeed.     Nearly'  a  score." 

"  You  married  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  And  your  wife  ?  " 

His  friend  paused  as  if  heaving  the  weighty 
words  from  some  painful  depth.  "  I  lost  her." 

"  Still  unfound  ?  " 

"One  day  I  hope  to  find  her.      She  is  dead." 

It  did  not  seem  so  sorrowful  a  thing  to  Sir 
Rohan  ;  or  if  he  had  the  pity,  he  was  compelled 
to  probe  the  wound. 

"She  died  suddenly?"  he  asked. 

"  By  a  long  illness,  a  year  after  Miriam  came." 

"And  has  never  returned,  —  you  have  never 
seen  her  since  ?  " 

"  Rohan  !  " 

"  I  am  vexed  to  have  occasioned  an  unpleasant 
thought.  And  who  named  the  child,  Miriam  ?  " 

"  My  wife." 

"It  is  strange  to  know  no  more  about  her." 

5  i> 


50  SIR  ROHAN'S  GHOST. 

"  Yes.  %  "We  met  with  no  clew.  Her  nurse  died 
some  five  years  since ;  I  often  wondered  if  she 
had  no  information,  but  she  denied  with  genuine 
surprise  when  questioned  .once.  Yet  on  dying, 
she  called  Miriam  and  whispered  to  her." 

"  What  ?  " 

"  I  never  asked." 

"You  are  very  simple,  then,"  said  his  inter- 
locutor. 

"  Changing  parts,"  said  St.  Denys.  "  You, 
Rohan !  have  you  married  ?  " 

A  sudden  spasm  of  pain  darted  through  Sir 
Rohan.  The  happy  humble-bee,  swimming  home- 
ward honey-laden  through  the  air,  could  not  have 
stung  so  savagely,  nor  have  caused  him  to  spring, 
like  one  shot,  from  his  station.  However,  im- 
mediately resuming  his  self-possession,  "  No," 
he  answered. 

"All?  There  was  a  legend  among  us,  I  re- 
member, just  after  we  parted  with  you,  that 
you  were  buried  with  some  sweetheart,  some 
beautiful  peasant-girl,  now  in  the  depths  of  these 
Cornish  haunts,  and  then  in  that  forlorn  tower 
of  yours  at  the  North." 

"  A  legend,  like  most  others,  more  pretty  than 


MIRIAM.  51 

true,"  returned  Sir  Rohan,  with  a  shade  more 
pallor  on  his  face. 

"  You  wear  proof-armor,  then  ?  " 

"Not  at  all.  I  adopt  bolder  tactics,  and 
wear  none.  A  noble  archer  does  not  strike  the 
defenceless." 

"Never  doubt  but  your  turn  will  come." 

Sir  Rohan  did  not  reply,  and  it  was  some 
time  before  St.  Denys  spoke  again. 

"  And  how  do  you  pass  your  time  ? "  said  he, 
at  last. 

"  As  you  see ;  at  the  last  profession  I  have 
adopted  —  painting  —  and  in  deadly  self-intro- 
spection." 

"Ah!  and  you  see  no  company?" 

"You  are  the  first." 

"  Have  you  exhibited  any  paintings  yet  ? " 

"None.  I  have  never  finished  any  of  suffi- 
cient worth  to  look  on  myself." 

"  But  you  intend  it  ?  " 

"  Hardly." 

"  Great  goodness,  Rohan  !  What  a  wretched 
life !  No  wonder  you  are  sad  as  a  masque  of 
tragedy!  Why  don't  you  kill  yourself?" 

Another  spasm  of  pain.  "  Then  I  also  should 
be  a  Ghost !  "  he  exclaimed  vehemently. 


52  SIR  ROHAN'S  GHOST. 

The  guest  sprang  up  in  alarm,  but  Sir  Rohan 
relapsed  to  his  former  stern  reticence,  with  his 
eyes  bent  fixedly  upon  the  distance-  A  momen- 
tary doubt  of  the  sanity  of  this  recluse  overpow- 
ered St.  Denys,  and  he  may  have  trembled  lest 
he  had  brought  his  treasure  into  the  den  of  a 
madman.  But  the  tenderness  of  his  nature 
soon  regained  its  balance,  and  he  reflected,  with 
pity,  that  the  unhappy  man's  loneliness  was  ru- 
inous. Nevertheless,  his  sudden  movement  had 
roused  the  girl  from  her  convenient  nap,  who 
looked  round  amazed  an  instant,  and  then  rose 
laughingly.  No  flush  of  sleep  stained  her  cheek ; 
her  haughty  coolness  seemed  as  involuntary  as 
her  breath.  Just  stepping  from  the  footprints 
of  the  child  into  the  sadder  ways  of  womanhood, 
she  walked  almost  as  if  conscious  of  fate,  with 
a  quick,  impetuous  gait,  to  meet  it. 

"  Mistress  Miriam  wears  the  air  of  a  Spartan," 
said  St.  Denys. 

"  Rather  like  the  Brown  Girl  of  the  Ballad," 
Sir  Rohan  returned. 

"Alas  for  fair  Elinor  if  I  confront  her  with 
my  bodkin!"  laughed  the  Brown  Girl. 

The  image  of  an  Elinor  who   might,  instead, 


MIRIAM.  53 

meet  her,  glimmered  before  Sir  Rohan,  blotting 
out  the  young  face  that  laughed  without  dim- 
ples, and  he  turned  away  to  evade  it. 

Miriam  stooped  over  the  chair.  "He  is  very 
strange,  this  friend  of  yours,  papa,  with  his 
sudden  ways  and  mouldy  house.  Don't  stay 
here  long,"  she  whispered. 

"He  is  too  unhappy,  and  perhaps  ill,  to  be 
left  longer  in  this  state.  Entertain  him  while 
here,  and  perhaps  he  will  go  with  us." 

Miriam  raised  her  eyebrows  and  her  shoulders 
as  if  the  prospect  did  not  charm  her. 

"  Do  you  suppose  he  means  to  starve  us  ? " 
she  said. 

"Young  ladies  who  take  naps  in  company 
should  have  courage  —  " 

"  But  I  was  so  tired  !  " 

"  Here  he  comes,  —  if  you  should  ask  him !  " 

"0  no,  no,  papa!" 

"Miriam  has  a  question  to  propose,"  said  he, 
as  Sir  Rohan  drew  near  again. 

"  Hush !  "  she  whispered. 

"  Can  I  answer  it  ? " 

"By  the  help  of  all  your  formulas  and  sta- 
tistics," said  the  other. 


54  SIR  ROHAN'S  GHOST. 

She  turned  with  a  pretty  mixture  of  defiance 
and  shame.  "  I  am  hungry,"  she  said. 

"  An  extraordinary  question,  which  I  hope 
dinner  will  answer.  Let  iis  hunt  some  up." 

"  I  wonder,"  thought  she,  "  if  we  shall  have 
to  eat  it,  standing,  from  the  shelves  of  the 
larder." 

"  I  wonder,"  thought  he,  "  if  there  is  anything 
in  the  house  to  eat."  And  he  led  the  way 
back  through  the  drawing-room  and  hall,  to 
what  had  once  been  a  sumptuous  dining-room. 

Less  out  of  repair  than  the  other  apartments, 
it  was  yet  large,  gloomy,  and  from  its  solitary 
occupant,  almost  out  of  use.  Nevertheless,  since 
noon  it  had  experienced  a  slight  rearrange- 
ment; the  glass  doors  of  the  cabinets  and  buf- 
fet had  been  washed,  the  walnut  floor  swept 
and  polished,  and  curious  pieces  of  furniture 
had  been  ransacked  from  other  rooms.  The 
table  was  laid  with  bountiful  folds  of  snowy 
linen,  ancient  plate,  and  costly  china ;  for  where- 
in Sir  Rohan,  during  these  desolate  years,  had 
suffered  himself  to  be  served  at  all,  he  had 
caused  himself  to  be  served  well ;  and,  frugal  as 
he  was,  had  insisted  on  a  certain  table  etiquette, 


MIRIAM.  55 

though  the  equipage  were  untouched  by  him 
from  day  till  dusk. 

It  was  a  dark  room,  and  the  glittering  table 
occupied  but  a  small  corner  of  it.  As  Miriam 
entered,  she  swept  forward  and  threw  open  the 
heavy  shutters  of  the  window  behind  it,  and 
sent  a  glad  burst  of  light  through  the  place. 
Looking  out,  she  disappeared,  and  in  a  moment 
returned  with  an  armful  of  white  raspberry- 
blossoms,  and  long  wreaths  of  the  purple  night- 
shade, and  heaped  them  in  a  large  vase  upon 
the  sideboard. 

"  A  bush  for  the  wine,"  she  said. 

"  And  good  wine  needs  no  bush,"  returned 
Sir  Rohan. 

A  white  rose  overlaced  the  window,  and  has- 
tily gathering  a  few  stems,  they  were  placed  in 
a  glass  upon  the  table ;  but  not  one  was  perfect, 
every  rose  bearing  a  small,  brown  taint,  —  ob- 
serving which,  she  as  quickly  dashed  them  away. 

"  Perhaps  Sir  Rohan  does  not  like  flowers  at 
dinner,"  said  St.  Denys. 

"  Excuse  me,"  she  cried,  turning  tartly. 
"We  have  them  always,  they  are  so  cheerful." 

"A  new  ornament.     I  like  them,"  responded 


56  SIR  ROHAN'S  GHOST. 

Sir  Rohan,  and,  absently  tearing  off  a  spray  of 
the  nightshade,  he  presented  it*  to  her,  saying, 
"It  agrees  well  with  the  Carthaginian  hair." 

"  I  seldom  wear  flowers,"  she  exclaimed ;  add- 
ing instantly,  "  Yet  these  gorgeous  stars,  with 
their  gold-drops  at  centre,  tempt  too  much," 
and  she  hung  them  in  the  heavily  festooned  tress 
next  Sir  Rohan.  A  moment  afterward  the  dishes 
were  brought  in  by  amazed  waiters,  and  a  stately 
servant  stationed  himself  behind  the  host's  chair. 
All  formality  was  banished  at  the  onset,  when 
Miriam,  to  avoid  spilling  her  soup,  overset  a  de- 
canter whose  contents  ran  down  the  table  in  a 
red  stream,  just  as,  from  his  sudden  movement, 
Sir  Rohan's  soup  probably  burned  his  mouth. 
Whereupon,  hiding  her  embarrassment,  she  broke 
forth  into  merry  quip  and  sally,  till  the  room 
rung  with  her  gay  voice,  and  long  before  they 
rose,  the  pale  Sir  Rohan  paused  confounded  at 
the  sound  of  his  own  laughter. 

Meanwhile  a  great  noise  and  hurry  had  been 
holding  high  carnival  in  the  region  of  the  guest- 
chambers.  Long  since,  large  fires  had  been  roar- 
ing up  the  chimneys  notwithstanding  the  heat, 
beds  had  been  airing,  carpets  spread,  and  coarse, 


MIRIAM. 


57 


clean  linen  from  Mrs.  Redruth's  laundry  waving 
in  lavendered  folds  across  bedposts  and  ward- 
robes. The  maids  were  bustling  about  sufficiently 
for  enjoyment,  and  the  general  racket  was  such 
as  had  not  scared  the  echoes  of  this  dead  old 
house  for  half  a  century.  But  only  an  intermit- 
tent buzz  reached  the  remote  dining-room,  where, 
dinner  being  concluded  and  the  gentlemen  not 
caring  to  sit  over  their  wine,  it  was  decided  to 
remain,  rather  than  adjourn  to  the  dingy  draw- 
ing-room; for  through  some  fine  sense,  Sir  Ro- 
han felt  an  approaching  danger,  and  this  was  a 
more  familiar  place  than  the  other. 

"  How  dark  it  is ! "  said  Miriam.  "  An  odd 
day  of  odd  adventures.  I  smell  thunder."  And 
looking  out,  they  all  saw  a  large,  brassy  cloud 
driving  swiftly  over  the  paling  sunset,  and  spher- 
ing the  sky  with  ominous  splendor.  Miriam  had 
taken  a  seat  directly  before  the  open  window, 
and  neither  of  the  others  were  far  off.  Recall- 
ing old  times,  the  two  gentlemen  had  long  con- 
ducted the  conversation,  when  gradually  silence 
fell,  gathering  an  increasing  awe  as  loud  thun- 
ders broke  close  above  them,  letting  sharp  light- 
ning slip  piercingly  down. 


58 


"When  we  were  descending  the  Alps,  last 
summer,"  said  Miriam,  "  riding  through  a  thun- 
der-storm, the  lightnings  came  and  played  round 
our  feet." 

"  But  I  hardly  think  it  rained  so,  there,"  said 
St.  Denys,  as  one  vast  sheet  gushed  in  torrents 
from  the  low  bosom  of  the  impending  cloud, 
appearing,  in  the  uninterrupted  flashes  that  illu- 
minated every  drop,  like  a  rain  of  fire.  Sir  Ro- 
han sat  leaning  his  head  upon  one  hand,  but 
with  a  singular  alertness  and  vigilance  apparent 
in  his  whole  figure.  Electric  thrills  had  been 
coursing  through  his  blood,  till  his  fingers  tingled 
and  his  eyes  sparkled. 

"  Sir  Rohan,"  exclaimed  Miriam,  "  I  believe 
if  I  should  touch  you,  you  would  flash !  " 

"Try,  Miss  Miriam." 

The  same  delicate,  airy  finger-touch  met  his  a 
second. 

"  Ah,  well !  "  laughed  she  ;  "  you  did  n't,  but 
it 's  because  you  are  cold  as  death."  The  word 
made  him  wince. 

"  Are  you  afraid  ?  "   she  continued. 

"  No.  It  is  a  constitutional  weakness,  I  fancy, 
something  involuntary,  so  that  in  every  thunder- 


MIRIAM.  59 

storm  an  unwelcome  force  and  intelligence  of 
life  crowds  down,  and  is  as  suddenly  wrung 
away,  leaving  me  with  an  unaccountable  depres- 
sion, limp  and  wilted." 

"We  heard  a  fanatic  preacher,  yesterday," 
said  Miriam,  after  a  short  pause,  "  who,  I  should 
think,  was  fulfilling  the  promise  of  his  text,  to- 
day. A  strange-looking  man,  with  long,  white 
hair,  pale  face,  and  glittering  eyes,  and  dressed 
in  a  dusty  gray  gown  as  if  just  off  a  long 
journey.  He  looked  like  some  old  shade. 
His  text  was,  '  To-morrow  I  will  stand  on  the 
top  of  the  hill,  with  the  rod  of  God  in  my 
hand.' " 

As  she  spoke,  a  more  dreadful  crash  than  had 
yet  been  heard  split  the  heavy  air,  and  a  bolt  of 
flame  fell  at  not  a  dozen  paces'  distance,  while 
the  withered  branches  of  an  old  poplar  shot 
forth  simultaneously  a  hundred  sparks,  and  a 
tower  of  fire  streamed  up  in  defiance. 

"  The  chariot  of  Israel,  and  the  horsemen 
thereof,"  ejaculated  St.  Denys ;  but  almost  before 
he  ceased,  the  light  went  out,  leaving  only  the 
charred  trunk  standing  boldly  against  the  low 
gleam  of  the  horizon. 


60  SIR  ROHAN'S  GHOST. 

A  throstle  shook  the  rose-vines  over  the  win- 
dow, and  .whistled  clearly  a  sweet  charm  against 
the  rain. 

"And  behold  the  Lord  passed  by,"  said  Miri- 
am, "and  a  great  and  strong  wind  rent  the 
mountains,  and  brake  in  pieces  the  rocks  before 
the  Lord ;  but  the  Lord  was  not  in  the  wind : 
and  after  the  wind,  an  earthquake ;  but  the 
Lord  was  not  in  the  earthquake:  and  after  the 
earthquake,  a  fire ;  but  the  Lord  was  not  in  the 
fire :  and  after  the  fire  a  still,  small  voice." 

Sir  Rohan's  head  fell  forward  into  his  hands, 
and  no  one  broke  the  stillness. 

The  storm  had  spent  its  violence,  and  was 
rolling  away  to  the  north.  The  rain  still  pat- 
tered from  leaf  to  leaf,  and  poured  off  in  plen- 
teous streams  down  deserted  alleys  and  ruined 
garden-walks.  Darkness  crept  up  from  the  dis- 
tant corners,  and  brooded  round  them;  but 
blacker  shadows  had  already  wrapt  Sir  Rohan, 
and  he  silently  warred  with  them. 

Still  sitting  there,  a  light,  timid  pressure  was 
laid  upon  his  shoulder,  growing  bold  enough  to 
remain.  He  knew  it  was  Miriam,  and  did  not 
turn.  A  sweet,  strong  influence  seemed  to  flow 


MIRIAM.  61 

to  him  from  this  gentle  imposition  of  hands,  a 
sense  of  peace  to  envelop  him ;  and  long,  re- 
joicing under  the  delicious  consciousness  of  reviv- 
ing strength  and  vigor,  he  would  have  sat,  had 
the  touch  long  continued.  But  as  if  aware  of 
his  desire,  she  perversely  flitted  away,  and  open- 
ing the  door  into  the  lighted  hall,  suffered  its 
gleam  to  irradiate  the  gloom. 

"You  are  too  sudden  in  your  movements, 
child,"  said  St.  Denys,  as  she  swept  over  a  clat- 
tering chair  in  her  way. 

"  And  I  was  growing  dainty  as  a  lady  with  my 
fingers,"  she  rejoined.  "  It 's  not  my  fault ;  but 
something  about  the  house,  some  sprite  twitches 
them." 

"  Do  you  think  the  miraculous  would  stoop 
into  Sir  Rohan's  dining-room  ?  " 

"  I  don't  care,  papa.  I  want  to  hear  that 
ghost-story.  I  came  for  that.  It's  just  the 
house  to  be  haunted,  —  unless  the  fragrance  of 
paints  and  oils  does  not  agree  with  their  honors, 
— and  just  the  hour.  We  have  a  ghost  at  the 
Castle,  but  he  has  been  quiet  so  long  as  to  afford 
no  amusement.  We  were  brought  here,  too,  in 
a  miraculous  manner." 

6 


62  SIR  ROHAN'S  GHOST. 

"  You  are  absurd,  Miriam,"  said  St.  Denys, 
with  a  smile.  "  Be  quiet." 

"  Don't  you  know,  Sir  Rohan,"  she  continued 
disregardfully,  "that  animals  —  brutes,  of  course 
—  are  said  to  perceive  apparitions  more  quickly 
than  men  ?  Last  night  we  were  on  the  road 
very  late,  and  going  smoothly,  when  suddenly 
the  horses  began  to  caper  from  side  to  side, 
dashed  into  a  lane,  and  then  through  a  broken 
hedge,  racing  over  the  moor  like  hounds  till 
they  pulled  up  near  another  highway,  and  to- 
day that  road  took  us  to  the  village  below  here, 
where  we  had  not  intended  to  stop,  and  which 
was,  you  know,  quite  out  of  our  way.  It 's  a 
wonder  our  necks  were  n't  broken.  The  coach- 
man told  me  that  he  knew  the  creatures  met 
the  Swairth,  —  that  he  himself  saw  something 
swinging,  white  and  shining,  before  them,  and 
nothing  could  have  tempted  him  to  proceed. 
He  told  of  it  at  the  inn,  and  they  said  very 
likely  it  belonged  up  here ;  that  it  was  the 
wraith  of  some  forlorn  woman  of  your  house, 
and  that,  if  papa  had  a  tourist's  curiosity,  we 
should  find  some  pictures  here,  and  might  see 
the  wraith  for  our  selves.  So  you  perceive  the 


MIRIAM.  b6 

Thing  brought  us  here,  and  I  wait  for  the  story. 
Have  n't  you  a  ghost,  Sir  Rohan  ?  " 

A  class  of  words  which  Sir  Rohan  had  grown 
to  avoid  even  in  his  thought,  was  now  perpetually 
dropping  from  the  lips  of  his  guests,  and  he 
expended  his  energy  nerving  himself  against  the 
abrupt  attacks. 

"  No  ghost  ?  "  persisted  Miriam. 

"  My  ancestors  never  had  one,"  he  replied,  in 
a  low,  distinct  tone,  the  volume  of  his  voice  com- 
pressed from  trembling. 

"  But  you !  have  you  no  phantom,  no  spectre  ?  " 

"  Pardon  me  if  I  say  that  you  confound  the 
terms." 

"  Have  you,  then,  found  any  difference  between 
ghosts  and  spectres  ? "  questioned  St.  De'nys, 

gayly. 

"  There  should  be  a  distinction.  A  spectre 
seems  rather  to  have  risen  from  the  grave,  to 
own  a  glimmering  shroud,  to  carry  with  it  the 
smell  of  the  dead  and  the  air  of  vaults  and  cof- 
fins. But  a  ghost! — A  ghost,"  said  Sir  Rohan, 
"  is  a  very  different  thing." 

"Then  you  have  nothing  to  tell  us?" 

"  Nothing." 


64  SIR  ROHAN'S  GHOST. 

"  And  I  am  positively  cheated  ?  " 
"You  must  forgive  the  rural  superstition." 
"  Well.     If   one   opening   fails,  I   can   try  an- 
other.    I  am  a  meteoromant,  you  know,  an  in- 
heritance of  certain  people.     I  know  a  charm  to 
ward  off  the  Evil  Eye." 

"  And  that  surprises  no  one,  Miss  Miriam." 
"  Nonsense  !    I  tell  papa's  fortune  often  enough, 
and  it  comes  true  often  enough." 
"And  what  is  St.  Denys's  fortune?" 
"  He   was  born  to   trouble   and    much   peace. 
Begin  as  I  will,  these  words  always  come   and  I 
must  say  them, —  trouble,  yet  much  peace." 

"  You  divine  by  thunder  and  lightning,  and, 
having  called  your  imps  around  you,  would  now 
tell 'me  my  fate,  —  is  it  so?"  and  he  extended 
his  hand. 

"  Yes,"  poring  over  the  hand  gingerly,  without 
taking  it.  "  But  there  's  no  fortune  for  you, 
good  or  bad.  I  should  think  your  life  had  been 
wiped  out ;  there 's  not  a  line  on  the  palm. 
Alackaday,  kind  gentleman,"  said  she,  assuming 
the  sing-song  gypsy  tone,  "great  evil  have  you 
waded  through,  and  greater  is  to  come.  Small 
pleasure  will  you  know  in  life,  and  in  sorrow 
will  you  die." 


MIRIAM.  65 

"  A  fortune  not  at  all  new,"  said  Sir  Rohan, 
dismally. 

"  Was  it  true  ?  "   she  asked. 

"  You  should  know  best." 

"  Papa  says  I  don't  know  at  all.  But  the  fact 
is,  that  once  when  I  was  a  child  I  fell  in  with 
some  gypsies  wandering  through  Kent,  who  fan- 
cied me  strangely  like  themselves,  taught  me 
half  their  singular  words  and  ways,  and  never 
come  by  the  Castle  now  but  they  leave  me  a 
cake  of  rich  and  costly  condiments  ;  —  so  the 
housekeeper  wrote.  An  odd  life,  that  of  the 
woods,  —  with  a  relish  that  no  other  life  pos- 
sesses. One  would  feel,  I  should  think,  living 
an  outlaw  in  those  deep  recesses,  like  all  the 
rest  of  the  wild  growth  there,  —  the  lichen 
on  the  trees,  the  little  wood-pigeons,  the  six- 
striped  snakes  that  shoot  from  under  one  brown 
leaf  to  another  like  darts  of  poison,  —  feel  as 
if  life  ceased  with  death,  if  indeed  death  ever 
came  there.  I  wonder  why  you  never  followed 
it,  Sir  Rohan,  among  your  other  adventures." 

Sir  Rohan  did  not  think  it  necessary  to  tell 
her  of  the  solitary  days  and  nights  he  had  spent 
housed  with  *  the  cold-crowned  snake,'  and  meet- 

6*  E 


66  SIR  ROHAN'S  GHOST. 

ing  no  response,  she  commenced  pacing  the  long 
room,  humming  in  a  low  key  to  herself.  As 
she  walked,  the  nightshade  in  her  hair  emitted 
a  heavy  fragrance,  and  having  flung  it  down, 
she  stole  from  the  room.  In  a  short  time  Sir 
Rohan  heard  a  sweet  strain  wafting  along,  and 
recognized  the  tones  of  the  old  clavichord,  soft- 
ened by  distance  and  winding  toward  them  with 
a  gentle  insinuation.  Trifles  were  now  indeed  the 
sum  of  his  life,  and  he  waited  in  horrified  sus- 
pense till  the  indistinct  prelude  should  unravel 
into  the  tune  that  so  powerfully  affected  him. 
But  when  the  voice  joined  the  instrument,  there 
rose,  instead,  the  solemnly  chanted  opening  of 
the  song  of  Deborah. 

"A  voice  as  sweet  as  wild  honey  in  the  crev- 
ices of  rocks,"  said  Sir  Rohan. 

St.  Denys  had  fallen  into  a  doze,  but  awak- 
ened by  the  music,  saw  Sir  Rohan  bending  for- 
ward, his  hands  upon  his  knees,  spell-bound,  like 
some  old  Egyptian  statue.  Still  the  voice,  a  rich 
mezzo-soprano  of  great  compass,  sang  sweetly  on, 
thrilling  the  hearers  through  the  warlike  spirit 
clashing  and  chiming  with  its  melody.  A  pas- 
toral simplicity  was  reigning  over  this  portion 


MIRIAM.  67 

of  her  chant,  sinking  gradually  into  quick,  hur- 
rying lower  notes,  till  the  earthly  allies  of  the 
Israelites  were  numbered,  when  a  lofty  chord 
rolled  up  in  a  succession  of  broad  flashes,  an- 
nouncing the  helps  which  Nature  sent  to  the 
battle. 

"  They  fought  from  heaven,"  she  sang.  "  The 
stars  in  their  courses  fought  against  Sisera." 

A  deep  groan  escaped  Sir  Rohan,  and  he  grew 
rigid  as  iron.  "  The  stars  in  their  courses  fought 
against  Sisera !  "  he  repeated. 

"  The  river  of  Kishon,  that  ancient  river,  the 
river  Kishon  swept  them  away,"  proclaimed  the 
victorious  voice.  "0  my  soul,  thou  hast  trod- 
den down  strength  ! " 

Sir  Rohan  would  gladly  have  laid  aside  that 
vigilance  which  he  had  worn  for  years,  had  it 
been  possible  ;  but  no  oblivion  came  to  his  aid, 
no  confusion  of  sound  or  sense  would  drown  the 
words. 

"  Curse  ye  Meroz,  said  the  angel  of  the  Lord," 
she  sang,  clear  as  a  clarion  across  the  fray. 
"  Curse  ye  bitterly  — "  when  the  loud  snap  of 
a  rusty  wire  broke  the  burden  suddenly.  Sir 
Rohan  rose  and  stood  in  the  starlight,  gazing 


68 


out  as  if  blindly  protesting  against  the  sentence. 
The  summer  night  had  slowly  deepened,  a  gentle 
wind  was  lightly  tossing  fragrance  from  the  rank 
flower-blooms  without,  rain  dripped  now  and  then 
with  a  low  plash  from  the  eaves.  A  sudden 
meteor  shot  across  the  sky,  leaving  a  track  of 
shining  light  where  the  eternal  stars  glowed 
coldly,  untouched  and  unchanged  in  their  places. 
What  was  the  misery  of  one  creature  to  them, 
he  thought ;  but  higher  than  they  he  dared  not 
send  a  murmur. 

Miriam  speaking  to  Mrs.  Redruth  was  now 
heard,  and  in  a  moment  after,  singing  gently 
other  verses  of  the  chant,  and  armed  with  a 
taper,  she  came  down  the  hall  into  the  dining- 
room.  It  was  like  the  angel  who,  entering  pur- 
gatory, struck  the  first  dreadful  letter  from 
Dante's  forehead,  Sir  Rohan  thought. 

"  I  have  accomplished  to-night  what  two  gen- 
erations have  failed  to  do.  I  have  ruined  your 
clavichord,  Sir  Rohan ! "  she  said,  gayly. 

"  To-morrow,  then,  we  may  hear  that  voice 
without  a  foil,"  he  replied ;  "  weak  and  thin,  a 
strident  griding  foil,  like  the  cricket  three  months 
hence." 


MIRIAM.  69 

Going  to  St.  Denys,  she  received  his  good-night 
kiss,  whispering,  "  Our  rooms  are  in  the  same 
hall,  papa,  or  I  should  be  afraid." 

"  Good  night,  Miss  Miriam." 

"  I  wish  you  a  good-night,  Sir  Rohan,"  was 
the  demure  response. 

On  the  landing  she  paused  to  protect  her  candle 
from  the  draught,  and  as  her  happy  unconscious 
voice  fell  downward,  they  heard  her  still  singing 
from  the  chant  of  the  Prophetess  :  — 

"  At  her  feet  he  bowed,  he  fell,  he  lay  down ; 
at  her  feet  he  bowed,  he  fell :  where  he  bowed, 
there  he  fell  down  dead."  A  door  slammed,  the 
voice  died,  and  all  was  still. 

"  And  the  evening  and  the  morning  were  the 
first  day,"  said  Sir  Rohan,  as,  when  the  clock 
struck  one,  he  showed  the  remaining  guest  his 
room,  and  left  him. 

Seeking  the  steward,  he  gave  some  orders  for 
cleansing  and  restoring  the  drawing-room  next 
day.  "  You  will  remain  for  the  present,  Red- 
ruth,"  said  he,  "  and  I  suppose  it  makes  no 
difference  to  your  wife." 

"  Lord  bless  you,  no,  sir !  And  right  glad  are 
we  both  at  seeing  your  worship  brighten  a  little. 


70  SIR  ROHAN'S  GHOST. 

For  all  these  long  years  you  've  been  so  dull 
and  moping  like,  my  woman  says — " 

Here,  utterly  confused  and  filled  with  abash- 
ment at  the  stern  surprise  with  which  his  master 
regarded  him,  the  steward  hesitated,  stammered 
an  apology,  and  bowed  himself  away ;  whereon 
Sir  Rohan  sought  his  painting-room. 

All  things  there  were  as  he  left  them,  —  the 
brushes  in  the  vase  where  they  had  been  plunged, 
and  the  window  open  for  the  entrance  of  exha- 
lations from  the  adjacent  salt-marshes.  Hastily 
closing  it,  he  took  the  candle  in  his  hand  to 
look  at  his  picture.  It  seemed  to  Sir  Rohan 
as  if  he  were  becoming,  since  noon,  more  and 
more  the  master  of  himself,  —  all  the  past  events 
of  his  life  a  dream,  and  nothing  real  but  this 
day.  What  consternation  overwhelmed  him,  then, 
when  on  approaching  the  canvas,  with  the  light 
in  his  hand,  every  trace  of  the  painting  had  dis- 
appeared, no  glimpse  was  to  be  observed  there, — 
nothing,  in  fact,  but  here  and  there  a  streak  of 
some  positive  color,  and  the  two  staring  patches 
of  lime  and  soda!  A  cold  perspiration  beaded 
his  forehead  as  he  saw  all  this  weary  work  ab- 
sorbed and  expunged.  Did  Destiny  thus  with 


MIRIAM.  71 

one  touch  cancel  the  promise  of  years  ?  Was 
it  possible  that,  in  drawing  the  Ghost's  eyes  from 
his  picture,  she  had  revenged  herself  by  drawing 
after  them  the  whole  ?  Justice,  not  Yengeance, 
he  said  to  himself;  and  with  a  sullen  despair 
confessed  that  had  the  Ghost  desired  those  cruel 
eyes  to  remain,  no  power  of  his  could  have  ef- 
faced them.  Again  alone,  his  phantasms,  and 
not  he,  ruled. 

Setting  down  the  candle,  he  stooped  forward 
and  searched  the  work  eagerly.  Low  in  one 
corner,  a  vermilion  fillet  close  upon  a  mass  of 
unspeakably  precious  ultra-marine ;  further  up, 
some  dim  outline,  obscured  by  a  smoky  air  that 
curled  across  the  whole.  That  was  all.  But 
as  he  searched  atom  by  atom,  he  caught  gleams 
of  his  former  design,  and,  recalling  by  the  help 
of  memory  line  after  line,  the  truth  flashed 
upon  his  mind.  His  picture  should  have  been 
full  of  purple  shades ;  yellow,  neutralized  pur- 
ple. As  this  idea  seized  him,  the  candle,  which 
was  flaring  in  its  socket,  dipt  and  fell  into  dark- 
ness, disclosing  the  moonlight  that  fell  through 
the  panes  and  overlay  his  easel.  He  waited  for 
the  effect.  Slowly  struggling  in  the  beams,  the 


72  SIR  ROHAN'S  GHOST. 

dubious  shades  wrought  themselves  out  upon 
his  vision,  till  with  ineffable  satisfaction  he  saw 
every  particle  of  his  work,  still  uiidestroyed, 
resolve  dimly  in  the  uncertain  light.  He  would 
have  endured  as  much  more  pain  for  the  sharp 
pleasure  that  now  flushed  and  filled  him.  Pur- 
ple, then,  vanished  by  candle-light,  he  had  discov- 
ered ;  and  thus  through  his  own  suffering  and  fail- 
ures he  was  instructed.  Throwing  himself  upon 
the  lounge,  he  slept  his  first  unbroken  slumber 
since  he  had  endeavored  to  install  art  in  the 
place  of  the  Ghost. 


IV. 

THE   WINE-CELLAK. 

SIR  ROHAN  was  awakened  at  morning  by  the 
sound    of  gay  voices  on  the  lawn  so  long 
consecrated  to   silence,    and    so    frequently    the 
battle-ground  of  the   Ghost. 

Having  performed  an  unusually  elaborate  toilet, 
he  paused  at  an  open  balcony  window  in  the  up- 
per hall,  and  looked  out.  The  lawn  was  not 
large,  but,  after  descending  a  few  terraces,  quite 
even,  green,  and  bordered  with  azalia-bushes, 
snowy  camellias,  purple  rhododendrons  in  their 
glory,  and,  where  the  full  wealth  of  a  southern 
sun  lay,  a  few  superb  ferns  and  rosy  oleanders ; 
the  whole  enclosed  and  sheltered  from  the  At- 
lantic blasts  by  mighty  firs,  dropping  their  boughs 
with  rings  of  shadow  low  upon  the  sward.  A 
grape-vine  clambered  from  branch  to  branch  of 
these,  weaving  a  natural  trellis,  and  hanging 

7 


74 


great  bunches  of  dewy  beryl  and  emerald  on  the 
sombre  green  of  its  support.  Here  Sir  Rohan 
had  spent  the  prime  of  many  mornings,  striving 
to  weary  thought  and  seeking  inspiration  for 
his  work  while  training  blossom  and  tending 
root;  and  here  the  Ghost  had  always  followed 
him,  at  first  with  gentle  enticing  and  sad  blan- 
dishments, and  then  with  sudden  intimations  of 
terror  and  the  whole  armory  of  her  ghastly 
array.  Now,  near  the  foot  of  the  lawn,  Miriam, 
having  twisted  a,  wreath  of  the  flaming  azalias 
in  her  black  hair  one  long  lock  of  which  al- 
ready streamed  over  her  white  dress,  was  throw- 
ing clusters  of  the  iinused  blossoms  at  St.  Denys, 
who  repaid  her  warmly,  while  after  every  missile 
she  tossed  a  laugh.  Just  as  she  had  raised  her 
hands  both  of  them  full  of  the  blazing  flowers,  a 
sudden  exclamation  from  St.  Denys  checked  her, 
and  turning  swiftly,  she  saw  Sir  Rohan  at  the  win- 
dow above.  Slightly  abashed  at  proving  herself 
a  romp  before  this  grave,  quiet  man,  she  dropped 
half  her  trophies  and  stood  irresolute  a  second, 
winding  the  loose  tress  about  her  fingers ;  then, 
glancing  up,  she  laughed  again,  threw  the  re- 
mainder of  her  brilliant  store  at  Sir  Rohan,  and 


THE    WINE-CELLAR.  75 

spreading  her  dress  in  either  hand,  swept  him  a 
broad  courtesy. 

How  the  face  changes,  thought  Sir  Rohan. 
What  variety  of  expression !  It  is  like  a  star 
on  troubled  waters  when  the  tide  comes  in. 
"  St.  Denys  deserves  the  happiness  he  finds  in 
his  child,"  he  said,  and  returning  her  greeting, 
he  soon  joined  them  at  the  table. 

After  breakfast,  St.  Denys  determining  to 
walk  to  the  post-town,  Sir  Rohan,  wrapped  in 
a  long  cloak,  the  invariable  garb  of  his  wander- 
ings, accompanied  him,  —  leaving  Miriam,  as  she 
desired,  in  the  tumult  caused  by  the  disarray 
of  the  drawing-room ;  where,  on  returning  a 
few  hours  later,  they  found  her,  still  revelling 
in  the  confusion,  in  close  communion  with  Mrs. 
Redruth,  and  a  bosom  friend  of  half  the  maids. 
All  the  shutters  were  open,  and  floods  of  un- 
wonted sunshine  filled  the  room  till  every  mote 
was  alchemized  to  gold. 

"Another  Danae !"  said  Sir  Rohan,  as  she  stood 
surrounded  and  transfigured  in  the  radiance. 

"  A  very  dusty  Jove,"  returned  St.  Denys.  "  It 
is  the  way  of  womankind,  however,  sir.  Since 
they  cannot  revenge  their  wrongs  by  conquering 


76  SIR  ROHAN'S  GHOST. 

and  routing  us  from  the  face  of  creation,  they 
wreak  the  exuberant  spite  on  every  unfortunate 
speck  and  grain  of  the  grand  primal  element, 
dirt,  in  their  domains ;  and  an  atmospherical 
stampede  of  dust,  like  the  present,  is  their  de- 
light. A  savage  onslaught  on  the  unpleasant 
material  supposed  to  have  entered  into  the  com- 
position of  man  is  instinct  in  the  feminine  na- 
ture ! " 

"  And  all  the  people  shall  say  Amen,"  said 
Miriam,  soberly. 

"  I  thought  you  had  important  affairs  to  de- 
tain you,  young  woman." 

"  So  I  had,  papa.  How  could  one  go  out 
when  the  noise  and  bustle  inside  had  such  at- 
tractions ?  And  besides  —  " 

"Besides  what?" 

"  I  wanted  to  make  friends  with  some  women," 
after  a  pause  and  coaxingly. 

"  And  have  you  succeeded  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  By  a  primitive  Freemasonry.  And  have  you 
had  enough  housework  ?  " 

"  Not  quite,  papa." 

"  Satisfy  yourself,  by  all  means.      I  shall  lie 


THE    WINE-CELLAR.  77 

down,  and  as  we  ride  this  afternoon,  perhaps 
two  more  strokes  of  a  besom  and  one  fling  of  a 
duster  will  be  sufficient  stimuli  for  a  heartier  ban- 
quet of  scrubbing-brushes  and  mops,  by  and  by.'' 
"  Take  care,  papa,"  she  cried,  sweeping  threat- 
eningly down  upon  them.  "  The  first  stroke 
besoms  you  and  Sir  Rohan  where  the  other 
nuisances  go  !  "  Upon  which  the  two  gentlemen 
beat  a  cowardly  retreat,  St.  Denys  to  his  apart- 
ment and  Sir  Rohan  to  his  painting. 

Shortly  before  luncheon,  Mr.  Redruth  passed 
through  the  hall,  with  a  large  key  in  his  hand. 

"  Where  are  you  going,  Mr.  Redruth  ? "  sang 
Miriam. 

"  To  the  wine-cellar,  my  lady." 

"  I  am  not  my  lady,  remember.  But  may  I 
go  with  you  ?  "  And  without  pausing  for  a  reply, 
she  followed  him. 

"It  is  a  place  hardly  fit  for  ladies  —  " 

"  As  fit  for  ladies  as  gentlemen,"  she  retorted. 
"  Is  it  so  very  much  worse  than  the  rest  of  the 
house  ? " 

"  Ah,  Miss,  it  is  a  sad,  sad  house,"  said  the 
old  man,  shaking  his  head.  A  sudden  disposition 

7* 


78  SIR  ROHAN'S  GHOST. 

to  inquire  about  Sir  Rohan  seized  Miriam,  but, 
a  nice  honor  restraining  her,  she  followed  Red- 
ruth  silently  along  various  steps  and  passages, 
till  he  unlocked  a  door  at  the  head  of  one  last 
flight,  lighted  a  candle,  and  went  down.  Here, 
also,  great  cobwebs  hung  in  flaunting  sheets,  the 
dampness  had  generated  a  blue  mould  upon  the 
narrow  walls  of  the  stairway,  and  large  fungi 
grew  rankly  in  the  interstices  of  the  flags.  As 
they  proceeded,  the  roof  vaulted  above  in  mas- 
sive arches  hewn  from  the  rock,  with  broad  groins 
and  a  single  row  of  immense  pillars ;  they  were 
imder  the  main  foundation  of  the  house.  Here 
lay  a  pile  of  broken  bottles ;  there,  a  heap  of 
puff-balls  that  Redruth  had  torn  yesterday  from 
the  path ;  further  along,  the  walls  gave  back  a 
frosty  glisten  to  the  rush-light,  covered  as  they 
were  with  crystalline  incrustations  that  seemed 
to  have  exuded  from  the  rock  and  settled  from 
the  air ;  and  in  the  last  recesses,  behind  doors 
heavy  with  chains,  were  bins  full  of  curiously- 
shaped  flasks  bearing  fantastic  seals ;  and  great 
casks,  piled  one  upon  another,  whose  heads,  once 
cabalistically  labelled  in  redolent  warehouses,  were 
now  netted  and  wreathed  in  the  dusty  gossamer 


THE    WINE-CELLAR.  79 

of  the  spider.  It  was  a  new  place  to  Miriam, 
for  in  her  well-ordered  home  she  had  never 
sought,  nor  would  have  found,  one  similar.  If 
she  had  thought  at  all  about  it,  she  had  fancied 
the  wine  on  St.  Denys's  table  was  supplied  in 
much  the  same  manner  as  the  three  fish  always 
to  be  found  in  St.  Neot's  well,  or  as  some  mod- 
ern magician  draws  finest  liquors  from  walls  and 
tables  where  none  ever  existed  before,  and  where 
we  may  suppose  no  great  provision  remains.  On 
one  side,  in  among  the  rarest  Metloc,  were  hoards 
of  claret  that  had  long  lost  its  mingled  flavor 
and  lay  lifeless  in  dingy  sarcophagi ;  while  its 
fragrant  kindred,  exquisite  Chateau  Margaux, 
delicatest  St.  Emilion,  and  sweet  wine  of  Roses 
from  the  Abbey  of  He,  gathered  a  softer  fire 
and  richer  purple  in  slumbering  through  the 
slow  feuilles  of  their  balmy  dreams.  Not  far 
away  lay  the  treasures  of  the  Cote  d'Or,  and 
of  Champagne. 

"  All  these,  Sir  Rohan  laid  in  nearly  twenty 
years  ago,"  said  Redruth,  "  but  they  are  losing 
now.  Will  you  try  them,  Miss  Miriam  ?  " 

"  I  came  down  to  see,  not  to  taste,"  she  an- 
swered. 


80  SIR  ROHAN'S  GHOST. 

"  Here  is  the  most  perfect  wine  in  the  world  1 " 
he  said,  drawing  a  bottle  from  its  layer  of  white 
sand.  "  At  least,  they  say  it  is.  I  '11  show  you 
one,  soon,  far  finer,  to  my  fancy.  Yet  none  but 
that  can  equal  the  softness  and  strength  of  this. 
How  racy  it  is,  clearing  the  heart  like  a  laugh, 
and  yet  how  light,  never  leaving  a  fume  in  the 
brain ;  vinous,  too,  as  if  the  very  life  and  soul 
of  the  grape  had  been  expressed  into  each  vin- 
tage, and  the  vine  would  never  blossom  again. 
So  full  of  perfume  is  it,  that  I  wonder  so  small 
a  space  should  contain  such  exhaustless  odors, 
and  half  believe,  at  each  bottle  I  uncork,  that 
the  King,  upon  his  throne  hundreds  of  miles 
away,  will  scent  it  slipping  along  the  wind,  and 
demand  it !  And  what  a  crimson  stain  it  has 
in  the  glass  !  —  a  glass  as  thin  as  air  you  should 
drink  it  from,  Miss  Miriam.  If  I  were  one  of 
the  heathen  gods,  I  would  turn  the  great  hollow 
heavens  into  a  drinking-cup,  and  wringing  it  full 
of  the  juices  of  the  Cote  d'Or,  would  sip  and 
sleep  through  eternities." 

"  Perhaps  that  is  what  one  of  the  Indian  gods 
does  do,  —  I  think  they  call  him  Brahma,"  said 
Miriam.  "  But  I  've  read  that  the  ancients 


THE    WINE-CELLAR.  81 

drank  from  murrhine  cups,  which  shed  an  almost 
imperceptible  fragrance  through  the  draught." 

"  All !  and  these  same  ancients,  I  Ve  heard 
say,  worshipped  something  called  Bacchus.  The 
poor  things,  I  suppose,  had  never  heard  of  Bur- 
gundy." 

"  Is  that  the  name  of  this  wine,  Mr.  Eedruth  ? " 
asked  Miriam,  touching  the  little  bundle  of  vir- 
tues daintily  with  her  finger. 

"  That  is  one  name,  just  as  all  the  imperial 
family  have  a  family  name  ;  but  the  Emperor 
himself  has  a  name  separate,  and  this  is  a  very 
pretty  one,  —  it  is  called  Romance  Conti." 

"  All  your  wines  have  pretty  names,  I  think. 
Do  you  know  any  that  have  n't  ?  " 

"  Let  me  see.  There  is  Schloss  Johannisber- 
ger  ;  that 's  not  so  pretty." 

"  I  don't  know.  Schloss  is  as  pleasant  as 
Castle,  and  the  syllables  jingle  well.  Yes,  I 
think  that  is." 

"  There  's  Marcobrunner  —  Montefiascone  — 
Amontillado." 

"  No,  indeed,  Mr.  Redruth,  they  are  as  musical 
as  brooks." 

"  0,  there  's  Szeghi,  a  Tokay  liqueur." 


82  SIR  ROHAN'S  GHOST. 

"  And  that  has  a  savage  sound  which  I  like." 

"  Indeed  then,  Miss  Miriam,  they  all  must 
have  sweet  sounds.  I  hardly  think  so  fine  a 
thing  could  be  ill-named,"  said  the  old  connois- 
seur, with  a  sigh  of  pleasure,  as  he  replaced  the 
bottle. 

On  the  other  side  were  stored  lively  Rhenish, 
that  might  have  been  reposing  unmoved  some 
half-century;  beyond  them,  dry  Spanish  and 
white  wines ;  and  in  a  still  warmer  nook,  but 
half  disclosed  in  the  dim  light,  luscious  liqueurs 
of  the  Levant,  and  rich  muscadines  of  the  south. 

"  Here,"  said  Redruth,  "  is  wine  that  I  brought 
from  Xeres  myself,  when  Sir  Rohan  bought  the 
French  wines.  You  have  been  in  Spain,  Miss 
Miriam  ?  No  ?  Then  you  never  saw  the  Tent 
grape,  which  is  purple  all  through;  nor  the 
great  vats,  with  steps  to  climb  them,  where  they 
keep  the  Val  de  Penas;  nor  the  giant  tanks  at 
Alicant ;  nor  yet  the  vine-dressers  of  Catalonia, 
swinging  over  precipices  by  slender  cords,  that 
they  may  tend  the  priceless  vintage  of  some 
cranny  no  bigger  than  a  grave.  You  would  like 
the  country  where  these  Lagrimas  come  from. 
Tears,  —  they  are  not  pressed  from  the  unwilling 


THE    WINE-CELLAR.  83 

bunches,  but  wept  down  by  large  white  grapes 
that  can  well  afford  to  be  so  bountiful.  I  do 
not  know  which  were  best,  the  laughing  of 
Champagne,  or  the  weeping  of  Malaga." 

They  were  now  in  the  last  arch,  whose  thick 
draperies  blinked  through  the  unaccustomed  rays, 
and  swung  heavily  at  the  breath  of  the  speaker 
while  he  busied  himself  in  the  ancient  stores  and 
stooping  among  the  tressels,  with  the  candle,  sent 
fantastic  shadows  to  dance  up  the  dusky  stone, 
still  startling  Miriam  as  the  clinging  webs  now 
and  then  brushed  her  cheek. 

"  All  the  wine  in  this  corner,"  said  he,  "  could 
not  be  bought  with  gold.  It  keeps.  There  are 
a  dozen  kinds,  placed  here  by  another  Sir  Rohan, 
a  hundred  years  ago.  This  is  Rousillon,  or 
Masdeu  they  call  it  up  stairs,  which  means 
God's  Farm;  and  it  is  that,  indeed.  Knights 
templar  and  monks  have  grown  it.  A  color 
like  a  violet  it  owned,  when  new.  Canary  is 
this;  it  should  have  the  smell  of  a  pine-apple. 
Do  you  fancy  pines,  Miss  Miriam  ?  You  shall 
have  them  at  dessert  to-day,  for  liking  so  well 
to  hear  about  my  wines." 

"  Yirtue  is  its  own  reward,  Mr.  Redruth. 


84 


"Here  is  Madeira.  If  fire  could  be  oily  in 
the  mouth  and  a  cordial  to  the  stomach,  and 
yet  have  so  delicious  an  odor  that  when  swal- 
lowing it  you  felt  like  one  prolonged  nose  down 
to  your  finger-tips,  why,  then  fire  were  old  Ma- 
deira." 

Just  above  Mr.  Redruth's  head  stood  jars  of 
sweet  Cypress,  and  a  carabas  of  Shiraz  wine. 
"It  is  as  sparkling  and  transparent  as  rock- 
water,"  said  Mr.  Eedruth,  pointing  at  the  last. 
"I  often  wonder  what  kind  of  grape  can  have 
so  clear  a  juice." 

"  I  can  tell  you,  Mr.  Eedruth,  for  I  have  seen 
it." 

"  Miss  Miriam !  "  he  exclaimed,  with  delight. 

"  0  yes.  They  grow  among  some  old  ruins, 
and  they  are  immense,  gold-colored,  and  trans- 
lucent, and  are  called  royal  grapes." 

"  Thank  you,  young  lady.  I  did  not  think 
to  learn  anything  of  you,  when  you  tripped 
down  behind  me,  just  now.  I  'm  not  very  fond 
of  young  persons ;  but  see !  you  said,  a  moment 
since,  virtue  was  its  own  reward,  and  here  it 
is.  The  wine  I  told  you  of  is  there  ;  and  after 
I  have  taken  off  the  dinner  wines,  I  shall  come 


THE    WINE-CELLAR.  85 

back  and  toast  your  eyes,  pretty  one.  That  be- 
side it  is  Johannisberger,  whose  name  you  like 
so  much ;  and  next  is  Riesling,  that  grew  at 
Strasburg,  where  there  is  a  fine  spire,  I  think,  — 
the  finest  in  the  world,  I  think,  —  that  tapers 
off  and  lingers  in  the  air  as  you  will  find  the 
aroma  of  White  Hermitage  linger  in  your 
throat ! "  And  taking  a  flask  of  Tokay  from 
beneath  an  anthiel  of  the  same,  he  left  it  in  her 
hands  as  if  in  compensation  for  his  absence 
while  going  to  decant  the  wines  for  which  he 
had  come.  "  Some  call  this  the  king  of  wines," 
he  said ;  "  but  it 's  not  my  king,  as  I  told  you." 

As  he  went  down  the  arches,  followed  by 
his  shadows,  now  bringing  the  rondure  of  big 
empty  tuns  into  light,  and  now  filling  the  hollow 
vaults  with  deeper  gloom,  Miriam's  glances  pur- 
sued him,  and  she  puzzled  herself  fancying  what 
contentment  he  could  find  crawling  in  and  out, 
day  after  day,  among  barrels  and  bins,  and 
hoping  to  die  no  better.  Then  she  remembered 
the  little  flask  of  consolation  that  had  been  left 
with  her,  and  turned  it  idly  in  her  hands,  al- 
though in  the  darkness  hardly  to  be  seen. 

Not  a  year  before,  in    that    delicious   season 

8 


86  SIR  ROHAN'S  GHOST. 

when  October  and  November  mingle  their  warm 
and  cool  hues  in  softest  shading,  making  for  us 
the  Indian  summer,  she  remembered  to  have 
wandered,  one  morning,  through  a  vineyard  of 
Tokay.  The  vines,  somewhat  shrivelled  and 
brown,  yet  still  bending  with  the  affluent  weight 
of  their  sumptuous  and  shining  clusters,  which 
nestled  among  the  sere  leaves  as  if  in  broad, 
golden  salvers ;  the  dews,  not  yet  all  exhaled, 
sliding  from  side  to  side,  and  as  they  hid  in  the 
heart  of  the  bloom-bathed  bunches,  imparting  to 
them  one  last  flavor  of  morning,  and  sunshine, 
and  sweet  south  winds ;  the  lusty  gatherers,  with 
brimming  corbeilles  borne  on  their  heads  lightly 
as  crowns  and  just  supported  by  the  caryatid 
curve  of  a  sun-bronzed  arm ;  the  rosy  faces  of 
frolicsome  girls,  as  they  peered  through  alleys  of 
the  vintage  treasures ;  the  great,  grooved  tables, 
heaped  like  altars  of  Bacchus  with  purple  abun- 
dance, even  the  pearly  piles  glowing  in  rich  shad- 
ows;  and  the  merry  Hungarian  peasants,  whose 
white  and  naked  feet  vainly  strove  to  conquer 
the  exuberant  and  spirting  crimson.  She  re- 
membered the  little  brown  thief,  with  his  wide, 
sherry-colored  eyes,  his  mouth  and  hands  full 


THE    WINE-CELLAR.  87 

of  the  gray  stolen  fruit;  the  scarlet-winged  bird 
who  swung  in  the  sun  beside  her ;  the  promise 
of  distant  snow,  low  in  the  air,  that  would  soon 
lay  its  white  morsels  among  the  dark  bunches 
left  to  gather  the  juice  of  the  completed  sea- 
sons ;  the  stream  braiding  its  remote  banks  with 
the  light  and  gloom  of  creek  and  inlet ;  and  the 
sailing  shadow  of  a  cloud  sweeping  over  bend- 
ing fields  of  yellow  grain,  and  falling  fainter 
and  fainter,  till  between  far  blue  hills  that 
reared  opposing  relics  of  barbarous  fastnesses  it 
became  only  like  the  visible  breath  of  the  wind 
itself.  All  this  was  the  tribute  of  the  last  vin- 
tage, but  how  many  seasons  had  faded  since 
that  morning  whose  sunshine  a  hundred  years 
ago  had  been  clouded  into  the  wine  of  the  flask 
she  held,  drawing  with  them  all  the  gay  work- 
ers of  that  day !  Grief  and  gray-haired  winter 
and  frosty  death  had  succeeded  their  smiling 
summer,  and  they  mouldered  in  mountain-graves, 
with  the  vintagers  of  the  Caesars,  —  yet  their 
wine  lived.  An  Emperor  had  supped  from  the 
kindred  of  this  flask,  lifting  its  silvery  lustre  to 
sway  with  an  oily,  indolent  lusciousness  between 
his  eye  and  the  sparkling  lights,  amidst  ravish- 


88  SIR  ROHAN'S  GHOST. 

ing  music  and  beauty  that  made  the  night  per- 
fect, —  and  this  had  slept  in  what  silent  seclu- 
sion in  the  darkest  recesses  of  a  dismal  cellar. 
What  seas  had  rocked  this  wine  till  it  clarified 
itself  by  tumult,  what  tropical  fervors  had  filled 
it  with  spicy  sweets,  what  large-starred  Indian 
nights  had  wafted  its  ship  through  zones  of 
frankincense  and  myrrh,  with  all  the  airs  of 
Paradise,  and  in  what  tempestuous  expanses  had 
it  ploughed  when  the  waves  rose  like  columns 
of  green  fire,  knitting  their  white  fans  above 
the  highest  mast.  Other  flasks  of  the  same 
growth  might  be  lying  on  ocean-floors  beside  the 
drinking-cup  of  the  gods ;  but  this  had  ended 
all  wandering,  beneath  the  foundations  of  a  for- 
saken manor.  Still  it  amassed  further  richness, 
as  the  hair  of  the  Enchanted  Beauty  grew  to 
her  feet.  It  had  royal  company,  too,  in  its 
sleeping  palace ;  and  she  recalled  the  names  with 
which  Redruth  had  entertained  her.  There  was 
Homer's  Nectar,  still  borne  by  rocky  Scio  as 
when  the  blind  poet  climbed  its  hills,  feasting 
his  grand  eyes  with  the  imagination  of  the  sea. 
There  was  Vino  d'Oro,  made  where  the  rustle 
of  the  cedars  of  Lebanon  reached  it,  and  through 


THE    WINE-CELLAR.  89 

whose  gardens  perhaps  Solomon  himself  had 
walked*  at  cool  of  day.  There  was  the  wine  of 
Hannibal's  camp ;  and  the  wine  of  the  Holy 
Spirit,  such  as  mellowed  in  the  great  tun  of 
Heidelberg,  watched  by  grotesque  sprites  and  de- 
mons perched  atop,  growing  almost  in  the  shadow 
of  a  Spire  more  perfect  than  the  one  which  Red- 
ruth  fancied,  inasmuch  as  free  offerings  have  a 
sweeter  savor  than  extortions,  and  this  rose  and 
melted  into  heaven  wreathed  with  a  softer  beauty 
than  niche  or  pinnacle  or  buttress  could  bestow, 
bathed  in  the  aesthetic  adoration  of  that  noble 
people  who,  without  the  aid  of  majesty  or  sanc- 
tity, could  give  farm  and  homestead  and  time 
to  build  up  and  complete  this  monument  in  air; 
and  there  was  the  Sang  des  Suisses,  —  the  Wine 
of  Blood,  —  a  wine  whose  soil  the  life  of  heroes 
had  moistened,  and  low  on  whose  horizon  lay  the 
purple  and  silver  phantoms  of  the  Alps.  She 
looked  toward  the  obscure  quarter  of  the  cream- 
ing Ay,  and  thought  of  some  possible  rencontre 
of  the  famous  sovereigns  of  the  four  great  king- 
doms of  the  world,  who  had  each  their  vineyard 
on  the  hill-side  there.  There  was  the  Lacryma 
Christi  which  alchemized  the  crust  of  a  volcano 

8* 


90  SIR  ROHAN'S  GHOST. 

into  juices  that,  she  had  heard  St.  Denys  say, 
the  Roman  Horace  sipped  as  rare  Falernian ;  and 
certainly  Charlemagne  had  known  the  name  and 
flavor  of  some  among  those  Rhenish  wines.  Did 
not  those  Rhenish  wines  where  now  the  candle 
flickered,  make  all  beautiful  landscapes  possible  in 
this  dark  and  chilly  cellar  ?  Did  they  not  bring 
the  broad  river  and  roll  it  through  the  gloom, 
between  castle-crowned  shores  over  whose  sides 
clambered  and  tossed  in  sunny  breezes  multitudes 
of  cool,  whispering  leaves,  where  feudal  ruins, 
whose  beacon-fires  had  once  bounded  from  roof 
to  roof,  bright  signals  of  incursion  or  attack,  now 
crumbled  amidst  the  eternal  youth  of  luxuriant 
vegetation,  hung  their  embrasures  with  imperial 
draperies,  and  housed  in  the  cells  of  wall  and 
corridor  the  purple  swarms  of  harvest?  Was 
not  the  chorus  of  the  savage  barons  still  to  be 
heard,  and  the  clang  of  their  drinking-glasses  ? 
Were  not  the  fair  faces  of  sad-eyed  nuns  to  be 
seen  down  the  green  vistas  of  tendril  and  vine? 
And  under  the  palest  moon  did  not  the  water- 
sprites  weave  misty  fountains  and  long  falls  of 
spray  in  its  arrowy  middle  current?  Were  they 
not  the  chrism  of  poetry  and  history  and  ro- 


THE    WINE-CELLAR.  91 

mance,  and  did  not  their  names  sing,  as  it  were, 
to  themselves?  Fine  company,  too,  were  those 
island  wines,  that  had  exchanged  their  throne- 
like  hill-sides  rising  on  the  far  view  of  the  mari- 
ner like  clouds,  and  ever  serenely  taking  the  dash 
and  turbulence  of  mid-ocean,  for  the  wooden  tres- 
sels  beneath  them  now ;  their  hedges  of  wild-rose 
and  myrtle  and  pomegranate  for  the  dust  and 
films  of  this  cellar ;  and  for  the  darkness  of  this 
present  shelter,  the  steep  look-out  from  their 
island  citadels,  across  boundless  reaches  of  sum- 
mer seas.  If  I  drink  of  this  Tokay,  thought 
Miriam,  I  drink  sunshine,  and  the  grape,  and 
Hungary  and  a  certain  wild  freedom  of  its  un- 
tamable atmosphere.  What  long  voyages  a-sea, 
and  what  silence  and  rest  and  perfect  calm.  But 
shall  T  taste  them  in  it  —  if  all  these  made  a 
wine,  would  its  flavor  be  that  of  Tokay  ?  I  would 
drink  it  then,  indeed,  but  I  may  not  like  this  — 
and  while  she  mused,  the  flask,  so  lightly  held, 
slipped  from  her  hands  and  shivered  on  the  flag. 
The  costly  liqueur  ran  slowly  down  the  channels 
of  the  pavement,  while  Miriam  stood  aghast  at 
the  unpremeditated  libation.  Suddenly  a  strange 
perfume  rose  in  clouds,  wrapping  her,  and  still 


92 


curling  upward  and  around.  Softest  summer 
and  richest  fragrance  diffused  through  the  damp 
and  wintry  vaults,  and  all  the  wealth  of  Araby 
the  Blest  seemed  dripping  from  the  air  and  lying 
at  her  feet.  As  she  moved,  her  garments  shook 
out  sweetest  gales,  and  the  arches  swelled  to  the 
pillared  vastness  of  some  incense-shrouded  tem- 
ple. "While  lamenting  the  catastrophe,  she  heard 
the  voice  of  Kedruth  approaching. 

"  So  it  tempted  you  too  much.  You  could  n't 
wait  for  me  !  "  he  said. 

Miriam  was  silent  till  he  comprehended  her 
misdeed.  "  I  am  so  sorry !  "  she  said  then. 

"  0,  it  was  priceless !  "  he  exclaimed  with  a 
pang,  stooping  over  the  fragments. 

"  You  should  n't  have  bewitched  me,  then  !  " 
retorted  Miriam,  twice  nettled. 

"  Well,  well,  Miss,  you  're  sorry,  or  you 
would  n't  be  so  sharp." 

"  I  shall  break  everything  in  the  house,  if  I 
don't  go  away  soon." 

"Better  you  should,  than  go  away." 

"Why,  Mr.  Redruth !  I  thought  you  would 
be  provoked." 

"It  was  yours,  and  if  you  like   it  better  on 


THE    WINE-CELLAR.  93 

the  floor,  you  're  welcome.  It 's  a  shame  to 
see  good  wine  wasted,  though,  and  this  was  the 
cream  of  the  earth.  Other  wines  are  best  grown 
011  light  sands  from  which  they  can  draw  no  juice, 
or  nourishment ;  —  the  sun  and  the  air,  the  wind 
and  the  rain,  feed  them  with  pulp  and  sweet- 
ness :  but  the  old  Earth  herself,  Miss  Miriam, 
gives  its  charm  to  Tokay,  —  draws  its  roots  into 
her  bosom,  distils  all  her  aromatic  gums  in  pun- 
gent essences  along  its  ducts,  teaches  it  her  se- 
cret. Yet  I  was  not  going  to  pledge  you  in  it, 
but  in  a  wine  paler  than  amber,  rarer  than 
Tokay";' in  White  Hermitage." 

"  Why  in  that,  Mr.  Redruth  ?  " 

"  Because  it  has  a  sweet  association  in  my 
mind  with  youth  and  beauty,  and  a  love  whose 
mystery  I  never  learned.  Shall  I  tell  you  ? " 
He  paused  a  moment,  as  if  reflecting.  Miriam's 
nice  honor  deserted.  "It  is  not  a  score  of  years 
since  Sir  Rohan  brought  home  with  him,  one 
day,  a  young  lady  handsome  and  stately-step- 
ping as  yourself,"  he  continued.  "  Hardly  my 
master's  equal  I  might  think,  —  though  seeing 
her  so  little,  and  she  so  quiet  before  folk,  it  was 
not  easy  to  judge.  The  noon  they  came  —  it 


94 


was  just  about  tins  season  of  the  year  —  Sir  Ro- 
han passed  down  here  with  me ;   the  great  door 
yonder  was  open,  and  had  filled  the  cellar  with 
warm  twilight.      I  was  showing  him  the   wines 
he  had  sent  me  to  buy  in  Spain,  when  we  heard 
a  little  rustle,  and  she  had  followed  close  behind 
him.     I  showed  no  more  bargains  that  day,  but 
at  the   mouth  of  this    arch  they   pledged    each 
other  in  White  Hermitage.     It  was  a  pretty  pic- 
ture, —  my  young  master,  so  tall  and  gallant,  with 
all  his  glances  on  her,  and  she,  tender  and  laugh- 
ing and  blushing  —  ah !  I  shall  not  see  one  like 
it  again.     They  were  here  but  a  few  days,  and 
on  one  or  two  of  those  were  gone  from  dawn  to 
setting  at  some   old  ruins   near,   and   then  they 
went  away  to  the   North.     She  wore  a  curious 
ring  that  had  been   an  heirloom  in  the  family, 
and  that  he  himself  used  to  wear  before  her." 
"  Was  this  young  lady  Sir  Rohan's  wife  ? " 
"I  never  heard  that  she  was." 
"  Poor  child !  what  became  of  her  ?  " 
"  I  never  saw  her  again,  and  who  would  dare 
ask  Sir  Rohan  a  question  ?  " 
"  I  have  asked  him  many." 
"  Yet  I  would  not  advise  you  to  ask  him  this. 


THE    WINE-CELLAR.  95 

Since  the  day  he  came  back  alone,  he  has  been 
what  he  is  now." 

Saying  which  things,  Mr.  Redruth  brought  up 
from  a  hidden  recess  a  tiny  bottle  of  White 
Hermitage.  "  There  were  three  bottles  then," 
he  added ;  "  after  this  there  will  be  only  one." 

"But  may  we  take  it?" 

"  Of  course  we  may !  I  never  pass  it  but  I 
think  of  the  gray-bearded  Hermit  on  his  stony 
hill,  setting  the  plants  in  every  seam  of  the 
rocks.  If  he  had  ever  been  a  bad  man,  he 
would  have  loathed  the  work  that  recalled  hours 
of  sin ;  and  he  must  have  been  a  good  man,  for 
he  planted  for  posterity." 

"  Does  that  follow  ?  " 

"  0,  you  don't  agree  with  me,  you  're  for  a 
quibble,  you  never  drank  Hermitage !  But  let 
us  go  out  where  the  odor  of  the  spilled  wine 
will  not  mingle  with  it." 

At  the  mouth  of  the  arch  he  drew  two  glasses 
from  the  basket  on  his  arm. 

"  Why  do  you  bring  them  down  here  ?  "  she 
asked  saucily. 

"Because  when  I  am  in  the  small  wines,  I 
sometimes  get  confused  as  to  the  kind  I  want, 
and  am  obliged  to  taste." 


96  SIR  ROHAN'S  GHOST. 

"  I  am  afraid  you  have  been  down  too  long 
when  you  get  confused." 

"  It  may  be,  Miss  Miriam,  —  it  may  be." 

"0,  I  beg  pardon,  Mr.  Redruth  !  I  was  n't 
in  earnest." 

"  No  offence,  young  lady.  But  though  I  'm  so 
fond  of  our  wines,  I  seldom  drink  them,  —  not 
too  often ;  and  no  more  does  my  master,  or  they 
would  have  been  gone  long  since ;  and  I  do  not 
think  you  were  born  when  the  last  were  laid 
in." 

But  it  occurs  to  me  here  that,  in  the  course  of 
my  observation,  I  have  never  met  an  individual 
who  acknowledged  that  he  had  just  been  asleep, 
that  he  entertained  the  least  curiosity  concerning 
his  acquaintance,  that  he  was  unfamiliar  with  the 
ways  of  the  world,  or  whose  irascibility  was  not  to 
be  highly  excited  by  an  allusion  to  the  time  when 
he  should  have  gained  more  experience.  How, 
then,  could  I  find  one  who  confesses  that  he  takes 
wine  too  often? 

Hanging  his  candle  in  a  hook,  Redruth  drew 
the  cork,  and  filled  first  Miriam's  glass  and  then 
his  own. 

"  Hold  it  up  to  the  light,  Miss,  and   see  the 


THE     WINE-CELLAR.  97 

shiver  that  sparkles  through  it  at  the  breath  of 
the  cold  air.  See  how  clear  it  is,  —  the  chrysolite 
of  the  Bible  is  not  clearer ;  —  brighter  than  the 
gilding  of  the  great  mirrors  up  stairs,  and  fairer 
than  the  shine  of  straw.  See  the  delicate  topaz 
tint.  It  is  the  color  of  the  sky  just  before  an  early 
winter's  sunset, — palest,  most  pellucid  gold.  How 
thin  and  fine,  —  it  looks  as  if  the  glass  held  only  a 
splendid  vapor  that  any  wind  might  blow  about 
in  little  flakes.  Draw  it  nearer  and  take  the  per- 
fume ;  what  a  rich  and  bounteous  bouquet !  You 
have  the  concentration  of  a  whole  garden  of  flow- 
ers, each  one  sweeter  than  the  other.  Taste  it, 
and  we  need  a  word  to  say  what  the  aroma  is  like. 
Here  's  to  your  brown  eyes,  Miss  Miriam !  " 

"  And  may  you  be  cup-taster  to  Prester  John, 
Mr.  Redruth!" 

It  so  happened  that  after  he  had  been  some 
time  busy  at  his  easel,  it  occurred  to  Sir  Rohan 
to  go  on  the  same  errand  as  Redruth,  and  see 
what  store  for  choice  palates  yet  remained  in  the 
cellar.  In  his  preoccupied  state  of  mind  the  open 
door  was  unnoticed,  and  he  descended  till  he  came 
to  the  heap  of  puff-balls  which  lay  drying  by  the 


98  SIR  ROHAN'S  GHOST. 

path.  He  had  long  contracted  a  habit  of  looking 
steadfastly  ahead,  and  thus  the  scene,  illuminated 
by  the  swinging  taper,  which  had  first  been  en- 
acted in  his  own  life,  met  his  unobstructed  view  at 
the  other  end  of  the  cellar.  Amazed,  he  dropped 
his  candle  in  the  fungi,  and  paused  to  behold  it. 
Miriam,  white-gowned  and  with  loosened  hair, 
holding  her  sparkling  glass  to  the  light,  like  any 
Bacchante,  while  Redruth  dim  in  shadow,  as  the 
dark  figure  of  a  cameo,  projected  her  more  bril- 
liantly. As  he  gazed,  the  fallen  candle  kindled  the 
withered  growth  beneath,  which,  flashing  up,  sur- 
rounded him  for  an  instant  with  a  pillar  of  fire, 
smothered  again,  and  rolled  on  high  a  dense  vol- 
ume of  smoke. 

The  intoxicating  effects  of  the  fumes  of  burn- 
ing puff-balls  are  too  well  known  to  need  com- 
ment ;  and  as  Sir  Rohan  stood  in  a  species  of 
bewilderment,  he  inhaled  their  delirious  vapor, 
still  with  his  eyes  on  Miriam.  Suddenly,  while 
she  yet  extended  her  arm,  he  saw  a  little  house- 
adder  glide  from  a  crevice  of  the  stone,  look  about 
alertly,  slip  down  and  coil  like  a  bracelet  round 
her  ivory  wrist.  He  would  have  darted  forward, 
but  all  power  of  volition  was  torpid,  though  he 


THE    WINE-CELLAR.  99 

beheld  faintly  through  the  smoke  the  white  face 
of  Redruth  paralyzed  with  fear,  and  he  waited 
in  an  agony  of  agitation  and  alarm.  Miriam, 
for  the  first  moment  ghastly  enough,  in  the  next, 
bent  curiously  forward,  and  inspected  the  ven- 
omous little  creature,  that  lifted  its  head  till  the 
fangs  danced  before  her  eyes.  Sir  Rohan  seemed 
to  see  nothing  that  ensued  ;  he  only  perceived 
her  in  the  instant  of  horror,  for  it  was  the  very 
device  of  the  ring  of  his  dream.  In  a  breath  he 
comprehended  that  the  Ghost  had  come  to  him 
again ;  and  as  the  little  flames  spread  from  the 
fungi  beneath  him  to  those  a  step  in  advance,  he 
saw  her,  with  her  hard  eyes  piercing  his,  shaking 
a  web  of  fire  betwixt  him  and  Miriam.  So,  the 
device  of  the  ring  his  mother  had  worn,  he  had 
worn,  the  Ghost  had  worn,  Miriam  was  imperson- 
ating. He  felt  the  seconds  of  his  delirament 
stretching  into  hours,  while  the  scene  was  as  im- 
movably fixed  before  him  as  if  carved  on  the  rock. 
Could  the  Ghost  by  any  subtle  chymistry  thus 
have  transformed  and  brought  the  ring  back  to 
him  in  the  gigantesque,  planted  at  the  foundations 
of  his  house,  as  it  was  of  his  life,  to  send  thrills 
through  every  wall,  and  to  be  remembered  at 


100  SIR  ROHAN'S  GHOST. 

every  draught  ?  It  was  in  vain  to  call  reason  to 
his  aid,  or  to  remember  that  the  power  of  the 
Ghost  had  been  growing  less  and  less  for  years  ; 
the  intoxication  he  had  breathed  ruled  him  as  im- 
periously as  ever  she  had  done,  and  he  could  not 
but  abandon  himself  to  the  wildest  extravagances 
of  imagination,  while  counting  the  separate  snails 
that  arched  their  yellow  backs,  and  tracked  the 
stones  around  this  device, — which  was  multiplied, 
by  the  patches  of  light  cast  from  the  swinging 
taper,  into  a  thousand  Miriams,  each  one  fasci- 
nated by  a  glittering  serpent,  —  counting  the 
bright-eyed  toads  who  squatted  above  and  gazed, 
the  white  lizard  and  the  gold  beetle  who  emerged, 
and  stared,  and  hid  themselves  again.  The  cur- 
rent of  fresh  air  blowing  down  from  the  open  door 
half  roused  him ;  broken  reflections  of  the  scene 
floated  away  on  the  dissipating  smoke  ;  he  won- 
dered if  men  often  lived  so  long  as  he  was  suffer- 
ing ;  —  the  atmosphere  became  clear  again,  and 
he  saw  Miriam  take  the  snake  by  the  tail,  give 
it  a  sudden  twist  and  toss  upon  the  distant  flags, 
where  with  a  sharp  hiss  it  slid  from  sight,  while 
she  looked  into  Redrutli's  face  and  laughed.  He 
found  his  relief  before  he  saw  her  action. 


THE    WINE-CELLAR.  101 

"  How  quickly  you  did  it,  Miss  Miriam ! "  he 
heard  Redruth  say.  "  Why,  I  scarce  saw  the 
thing  before  it  was  gone  !  " 

The  effect  of  the  puff-balls  was  passing  off,  and, 
tearing  his  limbs  from  their  chain,  he  sped  up  the 
stairs  again.  In  a  few  moments,  with  her  slow, 
stately  step,  somewhat  recalled  from  familiarity  by 
the  accident,  Miriam  followed,  leaving  Redruth, 
in  astonishment  that  he  could  have  dropped  a 
spark,  to  set  open  the  great  door  and  cleanse  the 
cellar,  lest  the  smoke  and  spilled  wine  should  cor- 
rupt and  ferment  his  treasures.  And  had  one 
looked  in,  a  half-hour  later,  they  had  seen  him 
staying  himself,  in  Sybaritic  composure,  with 
flagons,  and  because  there  were  no  apples,  com- 
forting himself  again  with  flagons. 


V. 

THE  RINGS. 

THE  next  day,  Miriam  told  St.  Denys  of  her 
experience  in  the  cellar,  and  asked  him  if 
what  Redruth  had  told  her  concerning  Sir  Rohan 
were  true. 

"  You  should  not  attend  the  gossip  of  servants," 
was  his  response. 

"  But  Mr.  Redruth  assumed  such  a  quiet  patron- 
age, that  he  seemed  to  have  lost  that  capacity." 

"  He  is  old,  and  generally  faithful ;  but  per- 
haps his  heart  was  warmed  with  the  wines  over 
which  he  was,  as  you  say,  so  enthusiastic,  when 
he  spoke  too  freely  of  his  master.  Forget  it, 
my  dear." 

"  I  suppose  every  one  has  his  faculties  concen- 
trated on  some  particular  point,"  said  Miriam, 
after  a  little  while  ;  "  and  so  with  this  man,  every 
other  beautiful  thing  only  tends  to  illustrate  and 


THE   RINGS.  103 

adorn  his  wines.  He  was  something  like  a  poet, 
only,  papa,  I  don't  think  I  like  poets.  And  Sir 
Rohan  —  his  point  is  his  painting." 

"  Just  now  it  is,  but  he  's  as  good  at  anything, 
as  the  melancholy  Jaques  has  it." 

"  I  wonder,  after  all,  if  he  knows  so  much  about 
any  of  his  businesses  as  Rcdruth  does  about  his 
one.  Well,  I  'm  glad,  papa,  you  're  not  a  poet, 
nor  artist,  nor  any  of  those  disagreeable  things. 
You  neither  run  nor  halt,  but  do  you  know,  I 
think  you  have  an  even  gait,  something  too  princely 
to  stoop  for  trifles.  There's  a  compliment  from 
your  big  baby !  "  and  she  twined  her  arms  coax- 
ingly  round  his  neck. 

"  Compliment,  indeed  !  Who  gave  you  leave  to 
flatter  me  ?  "  he  said,  fondly  putting  back  her  dis- 
ordered hair. 

"Why,  you  see  if  you  've  so  fine  a  gait,  the  best 
thing  you  can  do  with  it  is  to  walk  home  !  I  want 
to  be  at  home.  Only  think,  it  is  ever  and  ever  so 
long  since  we  saw  the  Castle  !  " 

"Ah,  Miss  Miriam ! "  said  Sir  Rohan,  entering 
just  then,  "  are  you  so  impatient  to  get  away  ?  " 

"Not  impatient,  sir,"  she  answered,  rearrang- 
ing herself.  "  Only  when  one  has  been  three 


104  SIR  ROHAN'S  GHOST. 

years  away,  home  has  gained  a  kind  of  enchant- 
ment." 

"  I  revolved  various  schemes  for  your  entertain- 
ment, during  my  illness  yesterday  evening,"  said 
Sir  Rohan ;  "  but  so  lonely  is  the  vicinity  that 
society  is  impossible.  My  only  neighbor  is  Marc 
Arundel  —  at  least  he  was " 

"  Marc  Arundel !  God  bless  me  !  have  I  escaped 
that  man  abroad,  to  hear  of  him  first  at  home  ?  " 
exclaimed  St.  Denys. 

"  All  ?  He  is  your  heir  ?  I  had  quite  forgotten. 
Yes,  his  estate  is  about  twenty  miles  away,  —  a 
small  one.  I  have  no  doubt  that  there  are  other 
families  between  us,  but  unfortunately  I  do  not 
know  them." 

"  Pshaw !  what  matter  ?  We  did  not  come  to  see 
them,  Rohan." 

"Thank  you.  But,  lest  too  much  even  of  so 
good  a  thing  as  your  humble  servant  should  tire, 
the  monotony  must  be  varied.  There  are  a  thou- 
sand curiosities  in  the  county  which  might  inter- 
est Miss  Miriam :  cromlechs,  old  British  fortresses, 
fabled  abodes  of  Gog-Magog,  and  even  some  avail- 
able mines " 

"  0,  a  mine  !  a  mine  !     I  should  delight,  of  all 


THE  RINGS.  105 

things,  in  going  down  a  mine !  "  exclaimed  Mir- 
iam. 

"  Perhaps  you  would  not  find  it  so  delightful  in 
practice  as  in  fancy,"  said  St.  Denys. 

"  0,  Sir  Rohan  !  "  cried  Miriam,  "  is  there  one 
near  here  ?  " 

"  There  was,"  he  replied  ;  "  but  it  may  be  for- 
saken now  ;  I  will  ask  Redruth." 

In  a  few  moments,  during  which  Miriam  beat 
impatient  tattoos  with  her  foot,  Mr.  Redruth 
answered  his  summons. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  he  replied ;  "  they  work  a  lode  of 
the  great  mine  still,  and  that  is  on  your  own  land. 
The  other  veins  took  a  start  some  years  ago,  and 
are  quite  dead  now." 

"  Can  we  enter  it,  Mr.  Redruth  ? "  cried  Mir- 
iam. 

"  Why,  Miss,  I  do  not  know  as  to  yourself;  but 
the  gentlemen  can,  if " 

"  0,  then,  we  will  certainly  go.  I  will  get 
ready  at  once.  Is  it  far  ?  " 

"  Seven  or  eight  miles,  Miss." 

"  Then  we  had  best  have  the  coach,  Miriam ; 
your  riding-dress  might  embarrass  you." 

"You  will  have  to  dress  differently,  for  con- 


106  SIR  ROHAN'S  GHOST. 

venience  in  climbing,"  said  Sir  Rohan.  "  Per- 
haps Mrs.  Redruth  can  accommodate  you." 

"Yes,  papa.  Thank  you,  Sir  Rohan,  I  will 
ask  her.  I  will  be  back  in  a  minute,"  and  she 
ran  quickly  from  the  room. 

"  Order  the  coach,  Redruth,"  said  Sir  Rohan, 
"  and  accompany  us,  if  you  like." 

"  I  will  drive  you  with  pleasure,  sir,"  he 
replied,  disappearing. 

"  How  comes  it,  Rohan,"  asked  St.  Denys, 
while  they  waited  alone,  "  that  you  dropped  your 
acquaintances  so  entirely  ?  " 

"  You  refer  to  Arundel  ?  0,  I  never  knew 
him  at  all.  Some  time  ago  Redruth  told  me  he 
had  come  into  his  property,  by  which  I  judged 
his  father,  whom  I  once  knew,  to  be  dead ;  but 
for  himself,  —  he  is  little  more  than  a  boy." 

"A  very  troublesome  boy,  —  a  scoundrel  of 
some  thirty  years'  growth,  thoroughly  possessed 
of  evil.  He  has  given  me  infinite  trouble  for 
Miriam.  She  is  only  eighteen  now,  but  three 
years  ago  I  had  to  take  her  abroad  to  avoid 
his  pertinacity.  It  is  best  that  it  was  so,  for  I 
had  always  found  it  impossible  to  have  Miriam 
taught.  She  has  learned  little  or  nothing  from 


THE    RINGS.  107 

books,   nothing  of  use,  yet  adapted  herself  sur- 
prisingly to  the   languages  of  such  countries   as 
we  lived  in,  and  by  a  continual  companionship 
with  me  has   gained,  orally,  what  all  the  types 
of  Europe  would  have  failed  to  impart." 
"  Did  you  free  yourselves  from  Arundel  ?  " 
"  Marc  ?     0  no ;   he  followed  us  for  a  time  so 
closely  as  to  seem  ubiquitous.     But   at   last  we 
escaped  him.     You  know  the  greater  part  of  my 
possessions  are  entailed  on  him." 

"And  yet  I  believe  he  is  not  of  your  blood." 
"  I  wish  I  could  say  no  drop,  and  thank  God ! 
But  he   is  my   only   relative   in   the   male   line, 
though  distant." 

"  Ah,  —  I  thought  it  had  been  some  indirect 
way,  or  unforeseen  chance,  that  made  him  inherit 
from  an  uncle  who  was  father  and  heir  to  your 
dead  sister's  child." 

"  To  be  sure.  He  has  some  small  sum  in  the 
funds  through  that  luck,  and  he  knew  that 
Miriam  will  have  more  there,  —  all  the  personal 
property.  I  would  give  half  my  remaining  years 
to  break  that  entail.  Unless  I  should  lose  it, 
though,  which  is  unlikely,  Miriam  will  have  a 
fortune  fair  enough ;  I  hasten  to  reach  home  and 


108  SIR  KOHAN'S  GHOST. 

lawyers,  that  iny  will  and  these  settlements  may 
be  made." 

"Why  hasten?    You  are  young  yet." 

"  I  am  young,  truly,  but  have  110  elixir  for 
remaining  so." 

Redruth  and  Miriam  returned  now  together; 
Miriam,  with  her  travelling-cloak  wrapped  closely 
round  her,  revealing,  notwithstanding,  the  well- 
booted  foot  and  handsomely  turned  ankle,  and 
with  a  singular  cap  tied  over  her  ears,  looking  in 
the  odd  disguise,  amid  her  pretty  blushes  and 
laughter,  like  the  ladies  on  the  stage  who  become 
pages  as  circumstance  and  the  author  command, 
or  like  some  bashful  impersonation  of  Rosalind. 
Lifting  her  hand  to  knock  the  cap  jauntily  on  one 
side,  she  displayed,  with  a  quaint  coquetry,  the 
neat  miner's  suit  which  she  adorned. 

"  Mrs.  Redruth  has  lent  me  some  flannel  clothes 
of  her  son's,  who  sometimes  works  in  the  mine," 
she  said.  "  Do  you  mind,  papa  ?  You  two  will 
look  infinitely  worse  when  lost  in  the  corners  of 
some  burly  stone-ciitter's  raiment !  "  And  they 
were  soon  bowling  forward  to  the  mine. 

After  an  hour's  drive,  the  road,  which  had  been 
sheltered  and  pleasant,  opened  on  a  bleak  level 


THE    RINGS.  109 

bordering  the  sea  and  exhibiting  few  signs  of  cul- 
tivation. Here  the  coach  stopped,  and  having 
alighted,  they  followed  Redruth  through  one  of 
the  various  footpaths  that  tracked  the  moor.  At 
no  great  distance  the  smoke  of  the  blowing-house 
rolled  up  continual  volumes,  staining  the  faultless 
blue  of  the  sky,  and  poisoning  all  the  sunny  air 
beyond ;  old  shafts,  that  had  been  sunk  and  aban- 
doned years  since,  lay  on  either  side,  —  deserted 
pits,  round  whose  black  abysses  long  grasses  bent 
with  their  own  coarse  weight ;  tall  rushes,  planted 
to  impede  the  progress  of  the  sand  inland  from 
along  the  coast,  edged  the  horizon  and  tipped 
themselves  with  the  sparkle  of  the  sea ;  and  at  the 
root  of  a  single  tall  and  ragged  pine-tree,  the  great 
shaft  yawned  amidst  heaps  of  rubble,  long  lines  of 
conduits  and  gigantic  whirling  wheels,  enormous 
frames  of  scaffolding  and  cables  through  which 
the  wind  whistled  hoarse  tunes,  and  all  its  black, 
terrible  enginery  and  uncouth  paraphernalia. 
Miriam  left  her  cloak  in  the  coach,  when  St. 
Denys  returned  for  her,  already  arrayed  for  the 
descent. 

"  Is  't  a  lass  going  down  ?  "   asked  one  of  the 
winze-men. 

10 


110  SIR  ROHAN'S  GHOST. 

"  As  good  wenches,"  replied  his  sullen  com- 
panion, "have  stayed  down." 

St.  Denys  was  the  first  to  enter  the  shaft,  and 
having  been  safely  lowered  through  the  close,  wet 
sides  of  the  hewn  rock  to  the  first  platform,  the 
kibbul  reascended  for  Miriam,  Sir  Rohan  and 
Redruth  speedily  following.  Then  came  the  cau- 
tious clambering  down  steep,  ruinous  ladders, 
flight  after  flight,  with  dim  perspectives  into 
black  galleries  winding  away  like  inquisitorial 
vaults,  —  far  above,  the  fair  sky  now  dark  and 
blue  as  twilight,  —  far  below,  the  twinkle  of  lan- 
terns on  yet  lower  platforms.  The  broken  slats 
that  might  precipitate  their  lifeless  bodies  a  thou- 
sand feet,  the  great,  half-rotten  beams  that  par- 
tially upheld  the  roofs,  the  monstrous  gaps  of  the 
landing-places,  just  made  visible  by  the  candles 
they  carried,  filled  Miriam  with  no  manner  of 
dread ;  she  experienced,  instead,  a  wild  exhilara- 
tion. To  Sir  Rohan  it  was  neither  pleasure  nor 
pain.  All  things  aroused  in  him  only  the  senti- 
ment of  endurance,  and  he  went  along  with  the 
same  silent  stoicism  that  he  would  have  mani- 
fested if  eternity  had  been  a  treadmill. 

"  How  easy  it  is !  "  said  Miriam. 


THE   RINGS.  Ill 

"  In  the  winter,"  replied  the  man  who  led  them, 
"  the  ladders  are  so  covered  with  ice,  rain  and 
sleet  beating  in  with  sharp  flaws  of  the  storm,  that 
the  way  is  full  enough  of  dangers.  Poor  Dick  fell 
down  from  here,  a  dozen  years  ago,  when  his  hands 
were  numbed  and  his  feet  slipped  from  the  run- 
die." 

"  Dick  who  ?  "  asked  Miriam. 

"  Roy,  ma'am.  He  'd  been  night-watch  for  a 
long  time  below,  and  one  day  he  took  a  notion  to 
see  the  world  above,  and  there  was  an  end  ;  he 's 
never  been  up  since." 

"  It  killed  him,  of  course  ?  "  said  St.  Denys. 

"No,  sir,  not  that ;  but  it  broke  more  bones 
than  I  'd  V  thought  he  had.  We  patched  him  up 
and  kept  him  like  a  lady  till  he  was  healed ;  and 
he  seldom  comes  near  the  shaft  now,  nor  will  he 
come  up  to  the  daylight.  He  says,  being  put  down 
so  strong,  it 's  but  fair  lie  should  stay.  "Will  you 
go  down  further,  Masters  ?  There  's  little  below 
but  water  and  deads.  Tender's  the  lode  we 
work." 

Pausing  on  the  platform,  they  glanced  into  the 
profound  again.  One  or  two  torches,  small  and 
bright  as  fireflies,  flickered  about  the  face  of  the 


112  SIR  ROHAN'S  GHOST. 

blackness.  There  was  a  murmur,  broken  now  and 
then  by  a  dash  and  gurgle,  that  told  of  running 
waters ;  and  the  clang  of  the  workmen's  hammers 
came  to  them  with  only  a  deadened  reverbera- 
tion. 

"It  is  as  great  a  mystery  down  there  as  it  was 
when  we  started,"  said  Miriam.  "Can't  we  go 
where  they  are  at  work,  papa  ?  " 

The  man  who  accompanied  them  was  one  of 
authority,  being  an  underground  captain  ;  and 
making  her  will  his  law,  he  stepped  from  the  land- 
ing, and  conducted  them  along  a  tortuous  way,  — 
now  on  single  planks  that  bridged  pits  suddenly 
sunk  to  murk,  dizzy,  and  never-sounded  depths  ; 
and  now  crawling  through  passages  precipitous  on 
one  hand,  and  the  three  remaining  sides  all  within 
reach  of  the  other,  while  to  the  flare  of  their  can- 
dles displaying  in  a  glittering  profusion  bright 
sheets  of  vivid  green  and  rusty  red,  and  singularly 
white,  pellucid  oozes,  —  till  the  narrow  sides  spread 
into  the  wide  halls  of  the  explored  vein.  The  roof 
that  they  could  have  touched  before,  supported,  as 
it  was,  by  great  pillars  of  ore  left  unwrought, 
stretched  suddenly  upward,  without  brace  or  but- 
tress of  any  kind,  higher  than  they  could  see,  and 


THE  RINGS.  113 

shrouded  in  completest  gloom.  A  natural  cavern, 
a  vast  hall  flanked  by  vaster  galleries  with  a  thou- 
sand avenues,  all  like  as  many  mouths  gaping  for 
darkness,  was  rendered  only  obscurer  and  more 
awful  by  dim,  scattered  lights  fixed  in  the  wall, 
the  walls  themselves  giving  back  countless  reflec- 
tions, and  glistening  in  rolls  of  gorgeous  colors,  as 
the  mundic  sprinkled  its  lustrous  facets  over  the 
unhewn  metal.  Great  barrows,  piled  with  rocks 
whose  rough  resplendent  angles  told  of  the  treas- 
ure in  their  bosoms,  passed  them ;  and  heaps  of  the 
earthy  matrix  lay  waiting  to  be  conveyed  in  their 
turn,  with  giant  crystals  of  quartz  and  shining 
slabs  already  split  away  from  them,  through  whose 
transparency  the  metal  branched  off  and  wandered 
along  with  all  the  delicate  arborescent  intricacy  of 
a  fern  or  a  sea-moss.  The  clash  and  clatter  as  of 
Thor  with  a  thousand  hammers,  resounded  and 
beat  about  their  ears  in  a  deafening  clangor, 
and  all  the  air  was  hot  and  oppressive.  At  one 
moment  the  black  distance  of  some  far-extending 
galleries  would  be  powdered  with  showers  of  tiny 
sparks,  followed  by  quick  explosions  that  echoed 
like  the  multitudinous  rattle  of  musketry,  as  small 
fragments  fell,  loosened  by  force  of  some  detonat- 

10*  H 


114 


ing  blast ;  and  already  so  suggestive  of  terror  had 
the  gloom  become,  with  its  wild  hints  of  greater 
depths  and  darker  precipices  where  the  miners 
were  already  kindling  the  Saturday  iircs,  that 
Miriam  clung  to  Sir  Rohan's  arm  in  a  strange  kind 
of  fascinated  dread,  while  the  Captain  explained  to 
St.  Denys  all  the  difficulties  and  attractions  of  the 
works.  "  It  was  pleasant,"  said  St.  Denys,  after- 
ward, "  to  observe  the  affection  which  this  man 
entertained  for  the  mine,  always  using  the  femi- 
nine appellative,  and  glorying  in  her  wealth  as  if 
it  were  a  personal  attribute." 

Advancing  down  the  cavernous  mazes,  they 
stood  upon  a  brink,  deep  in  the  heart  of  whose 
chasms  firemen  were  piling  fagots  and  logs  under 
a  hundred  arches  and  beside  every  hanging  wall, 
feeding  the  hungry  flames  that  licked  the  vaults 
with  long  tongues,  and  as  they  passed  to  and  fro 
across  the  ruddy  glare,  waving  their  torches  at 
unlighted  piles,  seeming  more  like  the  gnomes 
who  turn  the  crystal  sluices  of  hidden  streams 
and  cook  the  gems  and  metals  of  the  earth's 
bowels,  than  like  men  who  ever  breathed  in  the 
atmosphere  above. 

"  Perhaps,"  said  Miriam,  "  those  things,  those 


THE    RINGS.  115 

imps  down  there,  hold  the  strings  of  the  earth's 
motion  and  keep  her  even  in  her  orbit.  If  I 
should  hit  one  of  them  with  a  stone,  I  wonder 
would  she  fly  off  like  a  comet  or  not.  We  are 
in  a  sort  of  fairy-land." 

"  Stranger  things  have  happened,"  said  Sir 
Rohan.  "  Throw  your  stone  and  see."  And 
they  both  delayed,  looking  at  the  masses  of  metal 
which  ran  molten  in  the  blaze, — prismatic  copper, 
and  here  and  there  delicate  drops  of  silver. 

"  How  that  heavier  metal  plashes  down  !  Com- 
pared to  it  those  silver  sprays  and  plumes,"  said 
Miriam,  "  seem  rather  to  rise  than  fall,  like  feathers 
in  the  air." 

A  frequent  movement  of  Sir  Rohan's,  a  sharp, 
alert  survey,  had  annoyed  Miriam  ever  since  their 
entrance. 

"  Sir  Rohan,  how  nervous  you  make  me !  you 
positively  frighten  me  !  "  she  exclaimed.  "  What 
is  it  you  see  with  your  rapid  glance  at  either 
hand?  Is  there  any  danger  ?  " 

It  half  seemed  to  him  when  she  spoke,  as  if 
his  secret  were  discovered,  and  he  realized  what 
he  had  always  doubted,  the  relief  that  could  be 
afforded  by  a  disburdened  conscience. 


116 


"  No  danger,  Miss  Miriam,"  he  replied  ;  "  there 
are  no  fire-damps  here,  I  believe,  though  we 
should  not  linger  too  long  in  so  vile  an  atmos- 
phere. The  firemen  will  have  spread  their  labors 
through  the  mine  soon,  and  then  all  leave  it  till 
Monday  morning,  unless  poor  Dick  stays  down." 

"  There  it  is  again  !  "  cried  Miriam.  "  What 
did  you  see  ? " 

"  I  saw,  Miriam,  a  figure  such  as  the  witch 
saw  when  Samuel  came  to  Saul,"  he  replied,  after 
an  instant's  pause. 

"  Gods  ascending  out  of  the  earth  ?  "  quoted 
Miriam. 

"  I  did  not  mean  that  exactly.  A  figure  such 
as  when  Anne  came  to  Richard,  very  pale  and 
faint  and  wild,  that  glides  between  those  distant 
columns,  out  of  one  concave  into  another,  and 
always  over  the  shoulder  throws  a  dreadful  glance 
at  me." 

"  In  other  words,  a  ghost  ?  " 

"  In  other  words,  a  Ghost." 

But  when  Sir  Rohan  had  said  so  much,  a  great 
fear  seized  him  lest  he  had  revealed  himself.  He 
knew,  when  he  spoke,  that  she  would  not  believe 
him,  and  he  felt  himself  to  have  trifled  with  some- 


THE    RINGS.  117 

thing  too  sacred  for  approach.  Could  he  smile  at 
the  Fates  ?  And  would  not  the  curse  fall  with 
greater  burden  that  he  had  raised  it  a  moment 
by  a  jest  ?  Yet  here  it  was  fitting  for  the  Ghost 
to  reassume  her  function,  if  every  place  which  she 
had  once  filled  with  the  dazzle  of  her  youthful 
beauty  might  be  haunted  by  its  phantom  now, 
for  here  she  had  once  been,  on  as  fair  a  day  as 
this,  not  twenty  years  ago.  But  as  if  some  spell 
bound  a  portion  of  her  influence,  she,  who  not 
long  since  would  have  confronted  him  in  her 
direst  mood,  could  now  exert  no  more  authority, 
nor  spread  a  wider  van  of  horror  than  the  wan 
glimmer  fading  away  from  arch  to  arch  in  a  per- 
petual pursuit,  and  he  could  laugh  at  his  Ghost. 

Turning  hastily,  as  he  spoke,  they  wound 
through  other  alleys  after  St.  Denys  and  the 
guide,  till  they  again  reached  the  great  hall,  where, 
having  seen  quite  enough  of  the  mine,  Miriam, 
in  answer  to  St.  Denys,  expressed  a  wish  to  re- 
ascend,  and  they  slowly  crossed,  listening  to  the 
remarks  of  the  garrulous  Captain.  Several  of  the 
miners  were  haling  an  immense  boulder  down  one 
gallery ;  above  them,  known  by  its  faint  breaths 
of  air,  flared  a  forsaken  shaft,  looking  up  to  which, 


118 


Miriam,  half  expecting  to  find  the  blue,  found 
only  a  sphere  of  crystal  darkness ;  and  down  an 
opposite  aisle  a  torch  advanced,  rapidly  swinging 
from  side  to  side,  while  its  bearer  sung  a  rough- 
voiced  recitative  of  some  only  half-remembered 
ballad.  Either  they  hajl  become  accustomed  to 
the  din,  or  a  large  portion  of  it  had  ceased ;  for 
they  heard  his  words  distinctly  enough,  and  his 
rude  salutation  to  the  Captain.  He  was  a  tall 
man,  properly,  but  so  gaunt  and  haggard  as  to 
add  an  unnatural  length  to  his  stature  ;  clothed  in 
leathern  nether  garments,  a  red  shirt  falling  open 
from  his  tawny  bosom,  and  a  small  skull-cap  above 
the  matted  rusty  locks  that  mingled  with  his  long 
and  scanty  beard  unkempt  and  unshorn.  So  sal- 
low and  hollow  were  the  cheeks  with  their  parched 
skin  clinging  to  the  bone,  so  toothless  the  jaws,  so 
sunken  and  deep  and  glittering  were  the  eyes,  so 
racked  and  ruined  the  whole  distorted  frame,  that 
it  was  evident  he  had  long  breathed  the  fumes  of 
arsenic  which  the  burning  mundic  evolved,  and 
had  been  drained  of  health  by  the  profuse  sweat 
of  the  furnaces  above. 

"  0  Heavens !  "  whispered  Miriam,  "  it  is  an 
automaton  that  will  drop  in  pieces  before  it  has 
passed." 


THE    RINGS.  119 

"  It  is  Dick  Roy,"  said  the  Captain.  "  He  is 
tough,  ma'am,  or  he  'd  died  long  ago." 

"  I  thought  your  arsenic  burners  lived  but  a 
short  time,"  said  St.  Denys. 

"  Well  —  we  don't  look  for  them  to  trouble  us 
long ;  they  are  in  the  houses  above.  But  Dick 
is  only  exposed  to  the  poison  once  a  week,  —  when 
we  kindle  the  fires  over  Sunday,  —  and  then  he  's 
out  under  the  old  open  shafts  ;  so  he  lasts,  and  he 
likes  it ;  but  we  may  find  him  dead  some  Monday 
morning." 

Touching  his  cap  with  a  mechanical  deference, 
the  man  was  shuffling  by,  when  he  paused,  looked 
round  with  a  wild  hesitation,  lost  all  his  stupefac- 
tion on  the  instant,  and  suddenly  turning,  tossed 
and  flared  his  flambeau  repeatedly  in  the  face  of 
Sir  Rohan,  and  then  of  Miriam.  Passing  his  hand 
quickly  across  his  supernatural  eyes,  again  he 
peered  into  their  faces. 

"  Ha'  I  dreamt  ?  "  he  cried  sharply.  "  Ha'  I 
been  dreaming  ?  Is  it  no  score  o'  year  sin  I  came 
into  the  heart  of  earth  ?  Is  it  no  score  o'  year  sin 
I  saw  the  blessed  daylight,  or  a  star,  save  it 
glinted  as  yon  now  in  the  bal  above  ye  ?  sin  I 
snuffed  a  wind  creeping  in  fro'  the  sea,  or  heard 


120  SIR  ROHAN'S  GHOST. 

aught  but  its  roaring,  —  for  ye  're  under  the  sea 
now,  d'  ye  ken  ?  and  there  's  no  white  godolcans 
on  high,  with  their  steel  eyne  snappin  on  the  gale, 
an  shrilling  an  shriking  as  yon  o'er  the  moor  ! 
God  !  han  ye  never  gone  yeself,  ye  and  the  bonnibel 
beside  ye  ?  Then  I  've  no  broided  bones,  nor  did 
I  fall.  I  ha'  been  in  a  swound.  Sure,  it 's  the 
glaze  011  my  eye  that  makes  your  face  so  old  and 
deadlike,  —  but  the  lass  is  young  as  I  kent  her. 
No,  no,  ye  must  han  a  drug  up  above  to  keep 
beauty  and  life,  but  ye  've  not  drunk  it  your- 
self." 

Sir  Kohan  made  a  movement  to  pass,  and  the 
Captain  motioned  Dick  away.  He  obeyed,  but  in 
an  instant  shouted  across  the  distance,  "  Wait  a 
bit,  I  've  something  for  ye  !  "  and  was  soon  lost  in 
the  obscurity.  Before  long,  his  light  was  again  to 
be  seen,  and  shortly  he  waylaid  them. 

"  Look  at  this  !  "  he  cried,  extending  something 
that  glittered  in  his  hand.  "  Ye  don't  mind  it, 
Miss,  when  ye  wor  down  before  ?  How  the  master 
gave  ye  the  siller,  and  ye  turned  and  gave  it  me, 
sin  it  wor  so  like  the  ring  ye  wore  on  your  third 
finger  ?  Ye  've  no  ring  there  now." 

"  I  don't  know  what  he  means,"  said  Miriam. 
"  I  was  never  here  before." 


THE    RINGS.  121 

"  Hoot !  so  fair  and  lie  ?  0  lissom  lass,  mind 
ye  !  "  and  he  laid  what  he  held,  in  her  hand. 

It  was  a  piece  of  silver,  as  it  is  sometimes  found 
in  mines,  crystallized  in  a  slender  stem  and  some 
singular  inflorescence  that  in  shape  resembled  a 
violet  or  the  plant  called  heart's-ease.  As  she 
looked  at  it,  he  snatched  her  hand,  twisted  the 
supple  stem  round  her  finger :  "  God  give  ye 
good-den.,"  said  he,  and  vanished. 

A  deadly  pallor  had  overspread  Sir  Rohan's 
face ;  he  had  dropped  Miriam's  hand,  and  stand- 
ing apart,  was  surveying  her  with  fierce,  fixed 
eyes.  The  dreadful  thought  crossed  him,  if  it 
were  indeed  his  Ghost ;  the  words  faltered  on  his 
lips,  but  he  strode  away  quickly  without  speaking, 
and  led  them  to  the  foot  of  the  ladders.  Soon 
the  white  glare  of  the  opening  blinded  them,  and 
in  a  few  moments  the  fresh  breath  of  the  upper 
world  illustrated  the  horrors  of  the  atmosphere 
below,  and  with  the  cool  winds  blowing  in  and 
out  the  open  windows  of  the  coach,  they  were 
rapidly  proceeding  homeward. 


11 


VI. 

fanttyon. 

THE  next  day  being  Sunday,  St.  Denys  inquired 
if  there  were  any  practicable  church  in  the 
neighborhood ;  and  soon,  under  Redruth's  guid- 
ance, departed  with  Miriam  to  find  it,  leaving  Sir 
Rohan  to  his  primitive  desolation. 

Instantly,  a  loneliness  utterly  new  overcame 
him.  These  people,  who  had  not  been  with  him 
half  a  week,  and  one  of  whom  he  had  known  but 
three  days,  became  suddenly  as  indispensable  to 
him  as  the  air  he  breathed.  The  unusual  stir 
about  the  house,  proceeding  from  the  kitchen  and 
its  occupants,  only  reminded  him  of  the  silence 
aroimd  himself;  and  unused  to  control  any  emo- 
tion, except  in  its  exhibition,  he  allowed  the  little 
annoyance  to  vex  him  unbearably,  while  he  paced 
the  long  drawing-room  and  execrated  the  mur- 
muring air  that  his  rapid  step  set  in  motion  about 


123 


him  like  another  presence.  A  scarf  of  Miriam's, 
a  tiny  silken  thing,  lay  across  a  chair  ;  he  took  it 
up  tenderly,  as  if  it  were  a  part  of  herself,  for  so 
full  of  life  did  she  seem  to  him  that  he  fancied 
her  imparting  her  vitality  to  all  around  her.  <  But 
I  am  myself  half  dead,"  he  murmured.  A  glove 
of  hers  had  been  dropped  at  the  door,  and  scat- 
tered violets  from  the  bunch  he  had  plucked  for 
her  at  sunrise  marked  her  path  across  the  lawn. 
"It  is  a  generous  prodigality  that  distinguishes 
her,"  he  thought.  "  Her  heart  is  so  large  as  to 
receive  every  creature  with  kindness,  and  she  looks 
at  all  men  with  equal  eyes."  Sir  Rohan  was  on 
dangerous  ground;  so  he  rolled  the  scarf  and 
glove  together  without  lingering  over  their  deli- 
cate perfume,  placed  them  by  themselves,  and 
went  up  to  grind  colors.  The  clock  struck  the 
quarter  before  two  as  he  lifted  the  curtain  of  his 
painting,  and  simultaneously  feet  and  voices  echoed 
through  the  hall,  and  Miriam,  searching  drawing 
and  dining-room,  called  aloud,  "  Sir  Rohan  !  Sir 
Rohan  !  Do  you  know  what  day  it  is  ?  Do  you 
work  on  Sundays  ?  " 

Sir  Rohan  dropped  the  curtain,  despite  the  faint 
and  revengeful  look  that  gathered  over  the  face 
beneath,  and  joined  his  guests  like  one  ashamed. 


124 


"  What  a  queer  little  church !  "  said  Miriam,  as 
they  sat  at  lunch.  "  It  stands  so  lonely  011  that 
long  slope,  and  buttressed  by  those  great  cliffs, 
with  only  three  little  lonely  graves  and  the  sea 
before  it,  that  I  believed  Uther  Pendragon  to  have 
said  his  prayers  there ;  but  nobody  since.  I  said 
so  to  papa,  going  in,  and  a  quick  voice  from  no- 
one-knew-where  replied,  'I  apprehend  the  gen- 
tleman you  refer  to  did  not  accustom  himself  to 
that  amusement.'  One  might  have  known  who 
spoke,  but  I  could  n't  see  him,  till  half  through 
the  service,  in  the  great  pew  opposite,  there  were 
his  evil  eyes  staring  us  out  of  countenance,  at 
least  if  Marc  Arundel's  eyes  could  do  so  much." 

"  Miriam,  you  don't  mean  to  say  —  "  cried  St. 
Denys,  dropping  his  fork. 

"  Precisely  that,  papa.  He  bowed  with  the  con- 
descension of  a  Prince  Cardinal." 

"  You  did  n't  return  it  in  service,  Miriam  ?  " 

"0  no  !  we  were  past  the  creed.  So  I  was 
oblivious  of  all  the  Arundels  since  the  flood,  till 
leaving  ;  when  I  put  as  much  graciousness  and  as 
many  smiles  as  could  be  crowded  into  a  nod,  and 
gave  it  him." 

"  You  are  a  coquette  !     But  I  did  n't  see  him." 


125 


"  0  dear,  no,  papa  !  Your  eyes  were  blinded 
by  your  prayer-book." 

"  And  where  were  yours  ?  " 

"  0,  mine  are  like  those  bugs,  that  see  all  ways 
at  once.  What  a  superb  altar-cloth  that  was  !  — 
amaranth  velvet,  powdered  with  silver  fleurs  de 
lis  ;  we  must  have  one  like  it,  at  the  Castle.  Did 
any  ladies  of  your  family  make  it,  Sir  Rohan  ?  " 

"  No,  indeed  !  There  have  been  no  ladies 
in  my  family,  you  know,  for  many  years  ;  that 
little  church  flourishes  under  the  Anmdelian 
dynasty." 

"  I  should  n't  wonder  if  Marc  worked  it  him- 
self," said  Miriam.  "  It  would  be  very  fit  employ- 
ment ;  he  has  such  a  finikin  faculty  of  mending, 
picking  up,  patching,  —  surely  he  knows  the  scan- 
dal of  every  family  in  the  kingdom,  papa!  I 
think  he  'd  like  to  make  flourishes  in  gold 
thread." 

"  You  are  growing  vituperative,  young  lady," 
said  St.  Denys.  "  But  there  is  one  fortunate 
thing  about  this  rencontre.  He  does  not  know 
where  we  are." 

"0,  papa,  that's  too  soothing  a  medicament; 
he  saw  Redruth  with  us  !  "  she  replied,  pulling 


126  SIR  ROHAN'S  GHOST. 

off  her  bonnet  and  suffering  it  to  fall  from  her 
fingers. 

"  You  should  have  been  less  devout,  and  by 
staying  at  home  have  avoided  your  friend,"  said 
Sir  Rohan. 

"That's  a  remedy  too  late.  But  there's  yet 
another  ;  let  us  use  expedition,  and  depart." 

"  Miss  Miriam,  you  will  not  leave  me  yet  ?  " 

u  Why,  Sir  Rohan,  if  we  stay  we  shall  see  Marc 
Arundel." 

"  And  if  you  go,  I  shall  see  worse." 

"  Do  you  really  mean  that  you  want  us  here  ?  " 

"  Most  assuredly." 

"  Then,  if  content  to  have  your  retirement 
broken  in  upon,  all  your  household  upset,  and 
your  immutable  decrees  turned  topsy-turvy  by  a 
romping  lass  and  an  angelic  gentleman,  what  did 
you  seek  it  for  ?  " 

"  Miriam,  child,"  said  St.  Denys,  "  what  affair 
is  that  of  yours  ?  " 

"  Do  you  be  quiet,  papa,  if  you  can't  return 
your  partner's  lead." 

"  One  may  weary  even  of  chosen  pursuits,  Miss 
Miriam." 

"  Then  you  '11  soon  weary  of  us,  and  we  had 
better  go  before  that  catastrophe." 


4Fanrl)0n.  127 

"  Give  me,  at  least,  the  opportunity  of  trial." 

"  Now,  papa,  am  I  not  a  good  diplomatist  ? 
You  said,  this  very  morning,  we  might  be  trespass- 
ing after  all,  coming  as  we  did  into  a  student's 
quiet  without  an  invitation,  like  an  irruption  of 
Saxons;  and  now  I  have  procured  you  one,  al- 
though not  starting  with  that  intention,"  she 
added,  merrily. 

"  I  don't  know,  little  chatterbox,  where  that 
tongue  will  lead  you,"  said  St.  Denys.  But  Mir- 
iam was  already  half  dancing  away,  moved  by 
some  fresh  caprice. 

It  was  toward  the  conservatory  —  Sir  Rohan's 
mongrel  between  hot  and  green-houses  being^thus 
styled  —  that  Miriam  now  bent  her  steps  ;  and 
always  choosing  the  most  unusual  way,  she  pre- 
ferred crossing  the  sill  of  the  oriol  at  the  back  of 
the  drawing-room,  to  seeking  it  by  either  of  the 
hall-doors.  It  was  built  apart  from  the  house, 
and  was  kept  by  Sir  Rohan  with  exquisite  care,  in 
which  labor  an  experienced  gardener,  one  of  his 
nearest  tenants,  shared ;  and  here  the  owner's  use- 
less wealth  had  been  lavished.  Scarcely  a  rod 
from  the  window,  it  looked  thence,  when  the  noon- 
day sun  illumined  its  gorgeous  nurslings,  like 


128  SIR  ROHAN'S  GHOST. 

some  sunset  cloud  blown  into  a  nook  of  the  great 
buildings,  and  screened  there  from  all  harsh  dis- 
solving winds.  Since  it  had  been  the  place  where 
Sir  Rohan  grouped  his  colors  and  studied  forms, 
where,  also,  he  had  been  least  dejected,  it  was  less 
a  formal  hot-house  than  a  wilderness  of  delights. 
Once  within  it,  and  you  fancied  yourself  in  the 
heart  of  the  zone  that  girdles  the  earth  with  all 
the  beauty  of  that  magical  one  of  Yenus. 

Miriam  had  not  seen  this  place  before,  and  in- 
deed had  no  business  there  now,  for  it  was  as 
private  and  peculiar  to  Sir  Rohan  as  his  painting- 
room  ;  but  she  was  one  of  those  who  take  posses- 
sion jpf  whatever  they  see,  and  entering  an  open 
door,  a  long  green  leaf  and  white-impearled 
plume  of  the  rice  kissed  her  cheek  in  welcome. 
She  had  not  passed  the  threshold,  before,  rapt 
into  a  new  world,  every  sense  concentrated  itself 
into  that  of  scent ;  every  known  perfume  was  waft- 
ing toward  her ;  every  blossom  on  the  face  of  the 
earth,  she  thought,  was  steaming  with  delicious 
fragrance.  There  were  no  forms  or  tiers,  but  the 
plants  grew  in  broad  beds,  terraces,  and  mossy 
mounds,  where  practicable,  while  the  walks  were 
mosaicked  in  thick-strewn  autumn  leaves ;  serpents, 


4Fancl)0n.  129 

parded,  barred,  and  mooned,  like  agates ;  wings  of 
the  Purple  Emperor  of  the  Woods,  and  gay  fallen 
feathers.  At  one  point,  long  alleys  lined  with 
splendid  shrubs  formed,  in  the  sun,  arcades  of 
diamond  brightness,  while  half  up  their  height 
hung  narrow  galleries  whose  vines  trailed  over 
balustrades  of  gilded  network.  Where  the  crystal 
wall  arched  out  in  crescents,  great  cones  of  the 
dark,  shining  leaves  of  orange,  myrtle,  and  camel- 
lia were  massed  against  the  fresh  brilliancy  of 
tamarinds  and  enormous  ferns  whose  intricate 
meshes  glittered  like  cobwebs  in  morning  dew ; 
while  again,  the  rich  green  of  the  maranta  was 
thrown  into  deep  shade  by  the  startling  light  of 
a  mimosa  tossing  from  its  rude  trunk  a  spray  of 
airy,  tremulous  foliage  and  long  wreaths  of  gold- 
en blossoms.  Opposite  these,  an  Indian  coral- 
tree  loftily  reared  itself,  clad  in  profuse  scarlet 
flowers ;  and  by  its  side  the  regal  poinciana,  still 
breathing  of  Madagascar  and  southern  wealth, 
poised'  its  clusters,  crimson  and  magnificent,  on 
large  twin  leaves  all  winged  and  nervous  for 
flight ;  while  counteracting  discord,  over  them 
and  across,  with  snake-like  coils,  the  tropical 
bauhinia  clambered  and  hung  its  white  festoons, 


130  SIR  ROHAN'S  GHOST. 

elegant,  unequal,  countless.  From  this  excess  of 
color  and  contrast,  the  eye  passed  to  a  passion- 
flower trellised  in  broad  lace-work  against  the 
glass,  looking  backward  from  the  increasing 
height,  with  its  doubtfully  blue  and  odorous 
blooms,  upon  a  bed  of  late,  shade-loving  violets 
at  its  feet;  on  low  brackets  at  one  side  here 
stood  vases  of  the  rich,  violet-colored  gloxinia, 
and  paler  daphne ;  and  higher,  on  the  other,  a 
wide  urn  full  of  the  purple  Brazilian  cleome,  each 
blossom  like  the  claw  of  Jove's  eagle  grasping  his 
arrows,  and  round  the  urn  the  torenia  twined  in 
wanton  luxuriance  with  its  dark-purple,  velvety 
bells.  Easily  the  prevailing  hue  changed  to  the 
soft  shades  of  the  ponera's  buff  fascicles,  the 
cream-dyed  asystasia  clinging  breathlessly  to  the 
wall,  and  the  globy  abutilon ;  till  turning  sud- 
denly round  a  dwarf-palm  whose  great  fronds 
waved  with  dreamy  rhythm,  she  came  again  upon 
a  blaze  of  pomegranate-flowers,  orange-colored 
sesban,  crimson  clianthus,  pecking  like  a  bunch 
of  parrot's  bills  at  the  sunshine,  an  acacia,  —  the 
Persian  Gul-ebruschim,  —  rosily  tufted  with  great 
silken-threaded  tassels,  and  the  blue  thunbergia 
twisting  the  light  columns  near  by  with  involti- 


-iTancljon.  131 

tions  of  classical  acanthus-leaves.  For  all  these 
flowers  Sir  Rohan  forced  to  abandon  their  own 
proper  times  and  seasons,  and  bud,  bloom,  delay, 
die,  at  their  master's  despotic  pleasure.  So,  by 
some  secret  of  superb  skill,  ordaining  for  them 
such  unwithering  perpetuity  that  the  buds  of  May 
became  the  bantlings  of  December. 

Here,  glowing  carnations  took  the  noon  to  their 
hearts,  and  among  them  nestled  the  ivy-leaved 
cyclamen,  white,  eager,  listening ;  and  there,  the 
perpetual  shiver  of  the  hedysarum  filled  her  with 
a  vague  response,  and  the  snowy  tube-rose  satiated 
with  a  cloud  of  sweetest  spice.  Thrown,  as  things 
were,  into  masses  of  intense  hue,  they  attained 
such  individuality  only  by  gradations  as  minute 
in  one  place  as  daring  in  another ;  while  on  this 
exaggerated  scale  the  combination  of  color  might 
be  very  different  from  that  allowed  by  the  fine 
finish  of  a  lady's  toilet.  Swinging  from  tiny  cups 
on  high,  grew  the  aerides,  delicate  and  sweet ;  and 
above,  hung  in  every  way,  the  most  fantastic,  most 
delicious  orchids.  White  doves  and  swans  seemed 
floating  in  a  world  of  greenery  up  the  dome,  fal- 
cons with  light  on  their  pinions  shooting  from 
spray  to  spray,  vermilion-colored  spiders  sitting 


132  SIR    ROHAN'S    GHOST. 

on  some  broad  leaf,  and  rainbow-tinted  fish  swim- 
ming the  thinner  medium  of  upper  air,  while, 
grassy  or  pulpy  as  their  stems  might  be,  they  all 
wore  a  degree  of  grace,  beauty,  and  novelty,  not 
to  be  rivalled.  One  epiphyte  dropped  its  spiral 
slowly  down  as  she  advanced,  till  a  great  moth, 
with  broad-balanced  wings  stained  in  crimson  and 
gold,  danced  gaudily  before  her  eyes ;  and  round 
her  head,  as  she  walked,  waved  the  long,  wide  rib- 
bons of  Sumatra  grasses. 

Miriam  wandered  along  in  a  maze.  She  had 
brought  her  little  bible  with  her,  but  sooth  to  say, 
it  was  yet  unopened,  and  at  last  she  threw  herself 
into  a  chair  of  rough  Madeira-wood,  to  recover  a 
moment  from  the  intoxication.  Beside  her  here 
were  all  strange,  mystic  plants,  with  immense 
leaves ;  all  tropical  vines,  sighing  for  their  sul- 
try, gloomy  forests ;  lush,  dark  things,  still  stained 
with  the  steam  of  hot,  humid  regions  ;  rank  trail- 
ers, whose  blue  lips  dripped  with  poisonous  honey ; 
and  rich,  feculent,  aromatic  scents,  whose  every 
draught  held  death.  It  was  Sir  Rohan's  idiosyn- 
crasy. Over  the  whole  place  the  pandang  shed 
his  powerful  breath,  the  rarest  in  the  world,  and 
sacred  to  the  gods  themselves. 


JFancljon.  138 

Near  the  other  extremity,  Miriam  now  saw  a 
group  of  figures,  risen  in  a  cluster,  and  through 
the  shimmer  of  water  that  surrounded  them,  still 
rising,  one  might  say.  Some  were  above  the  oth- 
ers, and  one  was  uppermost  of  all ;  with  her  right 
hand  upon  the  shoulder  of  the  next,  she  seemed 
to  have  sprung  for  a  wreath  which  she  held  in  the 
uplifted  one.  It  was  a  wreath  of  lilies,  and  from 
the  heart  of  each  slowly  issued  a  single  drop,  dif- 
fusing and  gathering  again  at  the  apex  of  the 
petal,  and  falling  forever,  while  tenuous  threads  of 
water  shot  forth  in  pistil  and  stamen,  and  with  the 
perpetual  drops  wrapped  this  upper  figure  in  tor- 
rents, and  powdered,  as  they  fell,  to  a  drizzling 
rain  that  bathed  the  others  in  a  veil  of  mist,  till 
they  all  seemed  like  dimmest,  farthest  shadows 
risen  from  watery  depths  at  some  mortal  call.  In 
the  silent  basin  at  their  feet  were  tender  aquatics, 
the  gems  of  Indian  archipelagos  and  remoter  seas ; 
and  the  canals  into  which  it  ran  lost  themselves, 
without  borders,  in  a  soft  green  moss.  Beyond 
this,  baskets  of  roses,  comprising  all  shades  from 
black  over  sanguine  and  damask  to  purest  white, 
transfigured  themselves  through  the  vapor  into  a 
splendid  fleece  ;  and  flaming  cacti  made  a  rich 
12 


134  SIR  ROHAN'S  GHOST. 

background  for  the  noiseless  fountain,  and  as- 
serted their  own  identity  more  vigorously  because 
robbing  a  hill  of  heliotropes  behind  of  theirs. 

While  Miriam  sat  surveying  this  pandemonium 
of  scent  and  tint,  the  heat  and  fragrance  had  be- 
come oppressive,  her  sense  reeled  under  so  strong 
a  cordial ;  the  sun,  calling  forth  the  heavy  incense 
of  every  leaf,  threw  his  own  life  into  theirs,  and 
when  the  gardener  came  and  went,  having  drawn 
the  canvas  awning  over  the  roof,  it  seemed  to  shut 
in  the  whole  soul  of  the  ascending  atmosphere 
and  press  it  upon  her. 

She  leaned  back  in  her  chair,  inhaling  the  per- 
fumes like  a  voluptuary,  yet  half  doubting  if  the 
enjoyment  were  healthy.  Her  eyes  were  partially 
closed ;  but  in  an  instant  they  sprung  wide  open. 
Something  in  the  softened  light,  through  the  ful- 
vid  noon,  was  moving  here,  was  taking  shape,  ris- 
ing from  the  gray  heliotropes  and  bringing  their 
passionate  fragrance  with  her.  Something  so 
pale,  so  fair,  so  thin,  so  sad,  requiring  no  room, 
yet  making  all  room,  where  she  once  was  felt,  a 
desert.  Something  floating  toward  her,  never 
tinged  by  any  of  the  gorgeous  shades  under  which 
she  passed ;  white,  through  all  the  lurid  changes 


135 


of  purple  and  gold  and  scarlet.  Something  that 
seemed  to  imply  strength  for  so  much  direr  a  form, 
should  she  choose.  Something  still  advancing, 
till  the  heat  became  as  if  an  iceberg  had  melted 
in  it  ;  pausing  ;  gazing  at  her  with  such  infinite 
tenderness  and  pity  and  mournful  beauty  ;  passing 
on,  and  fading  like  a  moonbeam  into  the  sun. 

Miriam  sunk  back  again,  dazzled  and  dizzy;  a 
tlistant  shout  met  her  ear,  —  she  thought  they 
laughed  at  her  dream,  and  wondered  had  she 
really  slept. 

The  only  thing  to  contradict  such  supposition 
was  a  purple  heart'  s-ease,  —  which  she  was  sure 
she  had  never  plucked,  she  said,  —  lying  in  her 
lap,  pricked  and  threaded  with  the  finest,  finest, 
long,  dark,  human  hair.  But  as  if  seized  by  a 
wind,  when  she  would  have  touched  it,  it  whirled 
from  her  finger  and  disappeared. 

She  was  frightened  and  trembling,  faint  with 
awe  ;  all  her  muscles  were  relaxed,  —  either  the 
close  air  or  the  vision  had  rendered  her  power- 
less ;  she  felt  abstractly  that  the  position  was 
becoming  perilous,  when  suddenly  some  one 
dropped  the  sashes  of  the  roof  with  a  clang,  and 
a  free  current  of  cool  wind  swept  gloriously  in, 


136  SIR  ROHAN'S  GHOST. 

tossing  all  the  blooms,  ruffling  the  smooth  masses, 
bringing  forth  new  splendor  and  freshness  and  life 
at  every  sigh.  The  reviving  gale  fanned  Miriam's 
temples  a  moment;  then,  without  seeking  the 
cause,  she  clasped  her  bible  and  ran. 

The  cause  was  Sir  Rohan ;  he  had  uncon- 
sciously drawn  near  the  conservatory,  had  beheld 
Miriam  as  the  vision  took  shape,  had  watched  her 
through  it,  had  withdrawn  the  sashes  to  relieve 
her,  and  now  himself  stood  pale,  cold,  and  curs- 
ing fate.  For  no  magnetism  was  delicate  enough 
to  impress  upon  her  sight  this  burden  of  his 
thoughts,  and  Miriam  for  the  first  and  last  time 
had  seen  the  Ghost. 

In  an  hour  or  two  Miriam  re-entered  the  din- 
ing-room, and  finding  no  one,  stepped  into  the 
garden,  where  the  two  gentlemen  were  walking 
and  leaving  fragrant  wreaths  of  blue  smoke  be- 
hind them  as  they  walked. 

"  I  wonder  why  people  will  make  perambulating 
chimneys  of  themselves,"  she  exclaimed,  as  they 
abandoned  that  occupation.  "  You,  for  one,  sir, 
promised  to  show  me  those  south  rooms  at  the  top 
of  the  house,  where  the  sea  is  so  plainly  to  be 
seen.  Come  now !  " 


137 


"  With  pleasure.  St.  Denys,  will  you  join  us  ? 
I  fear  you  disappoint  yourself,  Miss  Miriam." 

"  0  no,  that  is  not  possible,"  she  cried.  "  I 
never  have  passed  any,  time  before  under  the  same 
roof  that  sheltered  crumbling  walls,  forsaken 
rooms,  and  deserts  of  dust.  There  will  be  unex- 
plored closets,  and  old  escritoires  bursting  with 
lost  records,  and  when  we  have  broken  out  the 
blackened  panes,  —  the  prospect." 

"  Probably  the  storms  have  saved  us  that 
trouble.  "We  may  capture  a  swallow  skimming 
round  there,  or  waylay  a  little  owl." 

"  Then  we  will  believe  some  damsel  of  the 
Ladies  Belvidere  has  been  cruelly  enchanted  into 
that  form,  and  we  are  the  powers  come  to  loosen 
the  spell.  Upon  which  the  lady  will  leave  the 
owl,  and  live  happily  all  her  days,  as  the  story- 
books used  to  say." 

"  God  forbid  !  "  said  Sir  Rohan,  more  heartily 
than  appeared  reason,  before  she  concluded.  But 
Miriam  only  laughed,  and  tripped  on  before  them 
up  the  stairway  with  the  keys,  which  Mrs.  Redruth 
had  given  her,  in  her  hand.  At  last,  however,  she 
resigned  them  to  their  owner,  who  threw  open 
door  after  door  into  rooms  destitute  of  furniture, 
12* 


138  SIR  ROHAN'S  GHOST. 

where  the  paper  hung  peeling  from  the  wall ;  but 
Miriam  found  them  all  too  small,  and  flitted  rest- 
lessly forward. 

"Here  is  one,"  she  said,  as  Sir  Rohan  would 
have  passed  a  door  ;  and  so  pertinaciously  and  like 
a  spoiled  child  did  she  return  to  the  attack,  that, 
after  hesitating  till  he  was  embarrassed,  he  turned 
the  key,  and  they  entered  one  in  full  as  ruinous  a 
condition  as  the  others.  The  curiously  netted 
rafters  overhead  had  been  eaten  by  worms  into  the 
similitude  of  quaint  and  delicate  carving.  The 
floor  was  warped  and  depressed  at  the  sides,  and 
heavy  articles  slanted  against  the  wainscot  or  had 
pitched  forward  and  fallen  into  fragments.  One 
large  window  lighted  it,  glass  and  sash  quite  gone, 
and  moss  bedded  upon  the  stone  lintel  within. 
Adjoining  tin's  window  was  a  diagonal  closet  built 
in  one  of  the  octagons  of  the  wall,  with  two  oaken 
doors,  looking  through  the  collected  deposits  and 
rusty  hinges  as  if  unopened  since  the  erection  of 
the  house. 

"  This  promises  more  than  any  other,"  said  Mir- 
iam ;  "  were  you  ever  in  it  before,  Sir  Rohan  ?  " 

"  Once  or  twice  I  may  have  been,"  he  answered, 
involuntarily  glancing  at  one  of  the  closet  doors. 


139 


"  I  should  think  it  was  a  place  of  pharmacy," 
she  added.  "  See  that  furnace  and  its  little  stone 
crucible,  and  those  phials  and  retorts  upon  the 
table." 

"  Doubtless  it  was." 

"  Ah  !  "  said  she,  pulling  a  ribbon  that  lay  on  the 
floor  at  the  foot  of  the  closet  door,  half  escaped 
therefrom.  "  And  was  any  woman  the  victim  of 
their  cabalistic  arts  ?  "We  are  approaching  the 
mystery,  Sir  Rohan."  And  she  examined  the 
ribbon,  once  some  bright-colored  thing,  that  yield- 
ed to  her  grasp  and  hung  in  threads  across  her 
fingers.  «  What  did  it  belong  to  ?  "  she  asked. 
"  I  wonder  who  wore  it." 

There  is  always  something  touching  in  decay, 
and  this  little  faded  ribbon  seemed  to  impart  to 
Miriam,  for  a  moment,  an  air  of  sad  sobriety. 
But  with  his  first  glance  Sir  Rohan  had  endeav- 
ored to  withdraw  her  attention,  and  approaching 
the  window,  said  :  "  But  the  prospect  !  In  your 
sentimental  lute-string  you  will  lose  it,"  and  he 
tore  aside  the  sheltering  ivy.  Miriam  bent  for- 
ward, rapt  an  instant  in  the  glory  of  the  great 
unrest  before  her. 

"  Come,  papa.     See  it  !  "  she  exclaimed,  draw- 


140  SIB  ROHAN'S  GHOST. 

ing  St.  Denys  toward  her.  "  It  is  scarcely  better 
than  when  out  of  sight  of  land  one  feels  in  dark 
nights  a  world  of  water  slipping  under  the  keel ; 
but  what  else  equals  it  ?  What  color !  What 
expanse  !  What  light !  " 

Indeed  there  were  few  scenes  to  compare  with 
this ;  for  isolated  from  all  surrounding  scenery,  the 
bowery  tree-tops  of  Sir  Rohan's  grounds  tossing 
below,  and  the  whole  set  in  the  ivied  framework 
of  the  great  window,  you  saw  only  the  vast 
loneliness,  and  heard  only  the  tireless  song  of 
illimitable  sea.  A  narrow  strip  of  yellow  sand 
bound  the  shore,  washed  by  broad  creamy  waves, 
breaking,  without  sparkles,  in  low  humming 
tones,  and  sobbing  back  into  the  gulfs  again 
with  a  stifled  sough.  Long  blue  lines  of  depth 
and  richness,  as  one  sees  the  channels  of  rivers, 
trailed  across  the  ever  shoreward  advance  ;  and 
beyond  these,  purple  fields  of  stillness  inflected 
its  surface,  and  further  yet,  where  some  island 
cliff  towered  to  the  winds  and  turbulence  of  weath- 
er, great  sheets  of  foam  aslant  took  the  stray  sun- 
beams into  their  bosom  and  produced  a  miracle 
of  radiance.  Overhead  the  sky  soared  faint  yet 
clear,  with  the  dun  haze  upon  its  skirt  that  ever 
haunts  a  sea-horizon. 


4Fancl)0it.  141 

"  And  it  is  always  so,  Sir  Rohan,"  said  Miriam, 
glancing  at  him  a  moment ;  "  all  summer  long,  all 
day,  till  the  moon  comes  with  her  white  serene- 
ness,  and  swings  it  to  and  fro  upon  her  queenly 
will.  And  in  clear  nights  of  sweet  darkness  how 
it  must  brood  to  itself,  and  what  calm  and  hush 
come  instead,  and  overshadow  it  with  unwavering 
wings  !  " 

Now  and  then  a  little  shallop  furrowed  some 
cove,  and  again,  from  a  misty  distance  a  broad 
white  sail  broke  into  life,  and  tacking  through  the 
sunshine,  buried  itself  from  view  in  other  firma- 
ments. 

"  The  sky  is  as  worthy  of  study,"  said  Sir  Ro- 
han. "  Observe  how  the  sea  near  the  shore  bor- 
rows its  hues  and  changes,  but  further  out  and 
near  the  horizon,  the  sky  borrows  those  of  the  sea. 
The  beauty  here,  one  could  swear,  is  eternal.  It 
is  because  we  see  it  in  the  vast,  the  mass  ;  the  de- 
tails are  not  so  pleasant." 

"  O,  do  you  think  so  ?  Don't  you  find  any  beauty 
in  those  sea-anemones,  and  madrepores,  and  net- 
tles with  their  fine  scarlet  and  cool  purple  ?  I 
believe  there  are  no  such  shades  on  your  easel. 
Surely  you  've  seen  the  sun-fish  shining  white  and 


142  SIR  ROHAN'S  GHOST. 

lucid,  like  a  ghost  under  water,  and  the  dying 
colors  of  the  mackerel  along  these  shores." 

"  I  did  not  think  of  those  in  speaking,  and  they 
are  hardly  what  I  mean.  Perhaps  it  is  a  peculiar 
prejudice.  In  the  midst  of  a  thing,  one  can  hardly 
form  a  correct  idea  of  it.  One  needs  almost  the 
supremacy  where  may  be  seen  the  earth  rocking 
her  great  tides  now  on  the  long  coast-line  of  the 
Americas,  now  on  all  the  broken  gulfs  and  reaches 
from  Africa  to  Thule.  We  must  come  up  here 
some  dark  night,  Miss  Miriam,  and  see  the  briony," 
he  added.  "  Redruth  and  his  boys  shall  go  out  in 
their  skiffs  and  whip  the  water  till  it  is  all  aflame, 
and  over  the  sea  of  fire  you  will  look  to  have  the 
heavens  roll  together  like  a  scroll,  and  the  last  day 
dawn  upon  us." 

"  Don't  send  them,  then.  I  will  enjoy  here  a 
little  longer.  I  don't  care,  yet,  for  that  Last 
Day." 

"  Miriam,"  said  St.  Denys,  "  why  do  you  persist 
in  speaking  so  lightly  ?  " 

"  I  never  thought,  papa,  —  please  forgive  me," 
she  answered,  turning  quickly  toward  him.  "  You 
won't  be  angry  with  me,  frowning  Puritan  ?  " 

But  the  indulgent  smile  was  reply  enough,  and 


-faiul)0tt.  143 

her  sole  care  dismissed,  she  returned  to  the  enjoy- 
ment of  her  view,  while  St.  Denys  moved  away  to 
examine  the  garniture  of  the  room. 

"  There  was  always  a  charm  to  me,"  said  Sir 
Rohan,  "  in  the  myths  of  those  old  existences  of 
ocean.  Not  Neptune,  nor  yet  Nereids,  and  hardly 
Mermen,  but  Spirits  of  the  Sea." 

"  Yes,"  answered  Miriam,  "  and  I  have  fre- 
quently thought,  if  I  were  not  a  woman, — which 
is  a  state  so  much  sweeter,  you  know,  —  that  I 
would  choose  my  metempsychosis  to  be  into  a 
water-mist,  or  any  part  of  its  great  source." 

"  The  sea  is,  nevertheless,  foreign  to  me.  It 
seems  when  sparkling,  too  much  like  a  living 
thing  rejoicing  in  the  hurry  and  bustle  of  the 
great  world." 

"  To  me  it  is  a  Beneficence." 

"  What !  with  its  caprice  and  treachery,  its  hol- 
lows of  green  darkness  beneath  the  shining  shield 
that  sleeps  in  the  sun,  its  rage  and  its  laughter ;  — 
remorseless,  and  yet,  I  can  fancy,  kind." 

"  All  that  is  because  you  must  float  on  it  some 
calm  noon,  in  the  shallows,  where  the  sunbeams 
bend  into  it  and  stain  it  a  mort  d'ore,  as  if  yellow 
waves  were  rising  and  falling  below  the  skin  of 


144  SIR  ROHAN'S  GHOST. 

brown  ripples,  and  every  instant  you  might  see 
some  glorious  creature  come  sliding  up  their 
under  swell,  all  radiant  with  these  Murillo  tints, 
these  browns  and  gold^' 

"  Like  yourself,  Miss  Miriam." 

Thus  speaking,  the  dialogue  paused,  and  they 
continued  for  a  time  silent,  together  watching  dim 
purple  vapors  that  rose  as  Thetis  rose  to  Achilles, 
—  yet  uncertainly,  like  smoke,  —  and  then  crept 
in  silently  over  the  land.  For  Miriam  it  was 
the  incense  of  the  ocean,  but  for  Sir  Rohan  the 
palest  and  mournfulest  of  shadows  fashioned  her- 
self from  the  ascending  cloud  to  gaze  at  him, 
vanishing  as  it  spread,  and  gathering  form  again 
in  each  succeeding  one. 

"  We  must  wait  till  sunset,"  said  Miriam ; 
"  how  kind  to  bring  me  here ! " 

"  You  have  an  artist's  eye,"  lie  rejoined ;  but 
looking  at  her  to  avoid  the  phantom,  the  relics 
of  the  old  ribbon  caught  his  own  again.  Miriam 
observed  the  glance,  and  immediately  returned 
to  the  topic  from  which  he  had  so  successfully 
diverted  her.  "  I  wonder  who  wore  it,"  she  re- 
peated. "  May  I  open  this  closet,  Sir  Rohan  ?  " 

Without  waiting  for  his  response,  she  turned 


iTancljon.  145 

the  rusty  key  quickly,  and  looked  within.  A 
gray  cloak  lay  on  the  floor,  and  a  cap,  linen  and 
once  white,  of  some  rustic  pattern.  Sir  Eohan 
could  neither  move  nor  speak ;  too  well  he  re- 
membered the  day  in  which  he  had  thrown  those 
garments  here,  too  homely  grown  for  their  wear- 
er's use  ;  and  now  was  this  strange  girl,  —  inquis- 
itively raising  them,  throwing  the  cloak  round 
her,  setting  the  tattered  cap  gravely  on  her  hair 
and  holding  it  by  its  single  string,  —  was  she  their 
angel  of  resurrection  ?  —  to  drag  them  into  what 
judgment!  What  right  had  she  to  come  and 
search  his  wounds  with  her  curious  fingers  ?  —  per- 
haps, he  thought  on  the  moment,  to  heal  them 
with  "  sweet  inspersion  of  fit  balms." 

Miriam  had  laughingly  displayed  herself  to  St. 
Denys,  while  Sir  Rohan  repeated  another  ques- 
tion which  again  and  again  had  recurred ;  but 
quickly  dropping  them  off,  she  exclaimed  : 

"  And  now  I  wonder  what  is  in  the  other  closet. 
There  is  no  key  to  it ;  was  it  never  opened  ?  " 
"  Never,  to  my  knowledge." 
"  But  can't  you  open  it,  Sir  Rohan  ?  " 
There  was  nothing  more  which  he  dreaded  to 
have  her  see ;  indeed,  he  did  not  suppose  there 

13  j 


146  SIR  ROHAN'S  GHOST. 

was  anything  else  to  be  found  there,  and  with  his 
knee  against  the  panel,  he  shook  it  lightly  and 
brought  away,  as  it  unclosed,  the  lock  and  a  part 
of  the  rotten  case.  Immediately  a  great  cloud  of 
offensive  dust  blew  wildly  out,  seeking  freedom 
in  the  room;  flew  into  his  eyes  and  nostrils, 
suffocating  and  blinding  him.  He  half  turned  for 
breath,  and  at  the  motion  some  shelf  gave  way 
with  a  little  crash,  and  countless  yellow  bones 
tumbled  rattling  upon  the  floor,  into  his  bosom, 
striking  his  face  and  his  extended  arm;  and  a 
human  skull  rolled  away,  splintering  to  fragments 
at  Miriam's  feet. 

"  Fanchon  !  Fanchon !  "  he  exclaimed,  shaking 
them  off  with  a  fierce  gesture. 

"  What  does  it  mean,  Sir  Rohan  ?  What  does 
it  mean  ? "  cried  Miriam,  springing  back. 

"  You  must  ask  Redruth!  "  he  retorted,  scarcely 
knowing  what  he  said,  and  striding  from  the 
room.  "  Let  him  look  to  it !  " 

They  followed  noiselessly,  St.  Denys  first  paus- 
ing to  lock  the  door ;  but  Sir  Rohan  had  preceded 
them  with  such  rapidity  that  he  was  out  of  sight 
when  they  resumed,  and  at  the  grand  staircase 
they  met  Redruth  ascending  with  a  box,  and  a 


147 


pale,  shivering  housemaid  with  dust-pan  and  brush, 
the  teeth  of  the  girl  chattering  in  her  head. 

At  dinner  Miriam  was  surprised  to  see  their  host 
cool  as  usual,  and  hurried  that  she  might  ask 
Redruth  to  explain  it  ;  moreover,  the  silence  she 
kept  concerning  the  hour  in  the  conservatory 
excited  her. 

"  I  am  afraid  Miss  Miriam  is  frightened,"  said 
Sir  Rohan,  when  she  had  gone.  "  She  was  so  dif- 
ferent, so  still." 

"  She  may  be  a  little  curious,"  replied  the 
other,  cracking  his  nuts,  —  "  not  much  more." 

"  It  was  very  singular.  You  remember  I  once 
told  you  the  little  legend,  —  but  never  put  faith 
in  it." 

"  This  confirms  it,  then  ?  " 

"  Yes.  See  that  ;  the  maid  found  it  among 
those  bones  ;  "  and  he  put  into  St.  Denys's  hand  a 
gold  girdle-clasp  once  set  with  jewels,  and  wear- 
ing in  old  English  text  the  word  Jandjott- 

Miriam  found  Redruth  in  the  housekeeper's 
room,  looking  over  an  old  gazette  that  St.  Denys 
had  brought  with  him. 

"  You  are  pale,  Miss  Miriam,  —  paler  than 
usual,"  he  said,  putting  it  aside. 


148  SIR  ROHAN'S   GHOST. 

"  Truly  I  may  be,"  she  replied.  "  I  think  the 
whole  house  is  paler  ;  I  can't  stay  in  it,  —  I  shall 
have  to  run  away." 

She  sat  down  on  a  stool  near  him,  and  resting 
her  head  in  her  hands,  said :  — 

"  When  I  asked  Sir  Rohan  what  it  meant,  he 
said, '  You  must  ask  Redruth !  let  him  look  to  it  1 ' 
So  you  may  tell  me  why  he  cried, <  Fanchon !  Fan- 
chon ! '  —  Pah !  "  she  declared,  shaking  her  head 
and  making  a  wry  face,  "  I  can  smell  it  now, — 
that  dust ! " 

"  You  might  ask  me  ?  Sir  Rohan  said  you 
might  ask  me  ?  "  he  replied.  "  Why,  Miss,  it 's 
not  much  to  tell.  You  must  know,  in  the  first 
place,  that  Sir  Rohan  and  I,  though  I  am  far  the 
elder,  are  a  sort  of  foster-brothers  ;  for  his  mother 
died  before  he  was  a  weanling,  and  mine  had  just 
lost  her  own  child.  Well  do  I  remember  this 
little  dark  baby  crying  pitifully  in  so  strange  a 
world,  as  my  mother  held  it.  I  was  a  tall  younker 
then,  and  something  taller  when  his  father  sent 
him  away  to  school,  and  me  with  him  ;  and  there 
I  picked  up  a  little  learning  myself,  as  you  may 
guess.  And  when  Sir  Rohan  went  to  the  uni- 
versity, another  servant  was  sent  him,  and  I  re- 


£ auction.  149 

turned  to  manage  the  lands.  And  his  own  father, 
in  dying  then,  bade  me  never  forget  we  were  fos- 
ter-brothers, and  serve  him  with  the  love  which 
one  blood  begets.  Well  —  I  believe  I  have  obeyed ; 
and  who  could  help  it,  —  could  help  loving  my 
master,  Miss  Miriam  !  He  went,  when  he  finished 
his  studies,  to  a  place  in  the  North  that  his  moth- 
er's brother  left  him,  for  his  father  had  been  a 
strange  old  man,  and  lived  much  as  Sir  Rohan 
lives  now;  and  the  place  was  damp  and  full  of 
underbrush  and  mould,  and  when  he  came  here, 
that  time  I  told  you  of,  he  did  n't  like  it.  But  by 
and  by  he  fitted  it  up  fine  enough  for  a  bride, 
then  returned  and  lived  alone  and  let  everything 
run  to  seed.  My  dear  young  master !  "  continued 
Redruth,  in  an  altered  tone,  "  you  see  him  now 
so  sad  and  worn,  Miss,  and  admire  him  of  course. 
I  wonder  what  you  'd  have  thought  when,  so  tall 
and  dark  and  slender  as  he  is,  he  had  a  color  in 
his  cheek  and  light  in  his  eye,  and  though  never, 
may  be,  a  handsome  man,  yet  with  a  power  about 
him,  a  stern  singular  way  of  constraining  you,  so 
that  I  fancy  he  might  have  won  any  woman's 

love " 

"  But  what  has  all  this  to  do  with  the  bones  ? " 

13* 


150 


"  True  enough.  I  ramble,  don't  I  ?  Only  that 
I  am  his  foster-brother,  and  long  ago,  a  great 
many  generations  ago,  there  was.  another  foster- 
brother.  But  the  heir  then  was  a  maiden,  —  Dame 
Fanchon.  My  master  is  not  in  the  direct  descent 
with  her,  for  she  was  the  last  of  her  line,  and  the 
title  went  to  cousins,  —  the  second  house,  I  think. 
But  as  I  began  to  say,  Dame  Fanchon  was  ac- 
counted beautiful,  and  there  were  many  who 
asked  her  in  marriage,  and  her  father  greatly 
desired  to  see  her  choose  a  husband.  Yet  she 
seemed  in  no  hurry,  and  time  passing  on,  the 
foster-brother  got  the  old  man  somehow  in  his 
power,  and  demanded  Fanchon  for  his  wife.  She 
refused  disdainfully,  to  be  sure,  but  her  father 
implored  her,  and  then  undertook  compulsion. 
She  was  a  proud  lass,  but  they  bowed  even  her 
spirit,  and  at  last  she  yielded.  So,  on  a  time,  her 
women  dressed  her  for  a  bride,  and  pinned  in  her 
hair  the  wreaths  and  veils  and  gauds,  and  led  her 
down  to  her  father  and  the  bridegroom.  And  as 
near  as  I  can  recollect,  she  said  to  him  in  French, 
'  My  father,  one  foster-brother  has  ruined  your 
line,  and  another  will  bring  it  to  dust.' 

"  Then  she  said  she  would  yet  go  up  to  her 


-fatuijott.  151 

room  and  pray,  before  starting  for  the  church  ; 
and  she  never  came  down  again.  When  they 
went  to  seek  her,  my  lady,  she  was  not  to  be  found, 
and  never  has  been  found  till  this  day. 

"  They  searched  the  country  through,  away 
beyond  the  Dart,  and  looked  somewhat  in  the 
house  ;  but  who  dreamed  of  her  hiding  herself 
there  ?  Perhaps  she  meant  to  come  out  o'  nights 
for  food,  knowing  her  white  raiment  would  startle 
whoso  saw  her;  though  I  can't  think  what  she 
meant  to  do  with  herself.  They  did  n't  do  their 
work  thoroughly,  Miss  Miriam ;  one  should  not 
half  break  a  spirit,  —  it 's  labor  lost. 

"  But  young  Dame  Fanchon  never  came  out 
again,  for  up  there  just  now  I  found,  slipped  down 
the  crack  of  the  closet  threshold,  beyond  reach  of 
her  little  fingers,  this  key.  She  had  locked  her- 
self in  at  the  sudden  freak,  and  dropping  the 
key,  it  must  have  fallen  there,  leaving  her  with 
nothing  but  despair  ;  since,  if  she  made  any  efforts, 
the  door  resisted  them,  and  there  was  no  one  to 
hear  her  cries  in  that  far  corner,  had  she  "raised 
her  voice,  —  if,  after  all,  she  did  not  choose  that 
starvation  to  the  other  fate,  and  by  losing  the  key 
put  succor  beyond  her  reach. 


152  SIR  ROHAN'S  GHOST. 

"  I  remember  now  hearing  that  servants,  sleep- 
ing in  that  room,  died  of  strange  fevers  or  wasted 
away  ;  but  how  it  came  to  be  guessed  where  she 
was,  I  never  knew,  though  no  one  could  tell  ex- 
actly in  which  room  she  had  secreted  herself.  But 
you  know,  Miss  Miriam,  murder  will  out.  That 
is  why  Sir  Rohan  called  Fanchon  !  " 

"  And  why  must  you  look  to  it  ?  " 

"  Why !  0,  I  suppose  because  I  am  a  foster- 
brother,  —  though  God  knows  there  is  no  service 
too  great  for  me  to  render  him  !  Bring  his  house 
to  dust  ?  I  would  die  before  I  would  do  him  an 
injury,  —  before  I  would  let  a  sorrow  reach 
him!" 

"  You  are  a  very  good  man,  Mr.  Redruth,"  she 
said.  "  I  don't  believe  you  ever  would  harm  Sir 
Rohan.  I  don't  know  how  you  can.  Poor  Fan- 
chon !  Do  you  suppose  it  was  her  ghost  I  saw  in 
the  greenhouse  to-day  ?  " 

"  A  ghost  in  the  daytime  !  Come,  Miss  Miriam, 
that 's  silly." 

"  Then  sunshine  and  blue  sky  are  silly.  I  don't 
belfeve,  now,  that  they  ever  come  in  the  night." 

"  You  saw  a  ghost  ?  "  he  asked,  with  a  singu- 
larly perturbed  air. 


153 


"  Why,  Mr.  Redruth,  -you  mustn't  laugh  at  me. 

I  don't  know,  —  yes.     Was  it  hers  ?  " 

"  Hers  ?  —  No,  not  her  ghost,  —  not  hers." 

"  Whose  was  it,  then  ?  "  she  said,  rising.    "How 

absurd  I  am  !     What  would  papa  say  ?     Well,  I 

can't  help  it.     Poor  Fanchon  !  " 


VII. 

TESTIMONY. 

A  FEW  more  days  vanished  like  the  others, 
when  one  morning  Miriam  said, 

"  Do  you  know,  Sir  Kohan,  this  is  our  anniver- 
sary ?  We  have  been  here  just  a  week,  we  have 
known  each  other  just  a  week.  At  least  it  would 
be,  if  seven  days  made  a  year." 

"  I  presume  you  would  think  me  very  uncour- 
teous  to  say  that  it  seems  to  me  a  year." 

"Indeed  I  should." 

"  I  have  just  begun  to  live ;  and  to  the  ^little 
child  days,  you  remember,  are  ages.  I  am  per- 
plexed to  know  why  it  should  seem  so  long  a 
time,"  he  returned.  "  Possibly,  because  so  full  of 
happiness  that  it  will  take  me  a  year  to  recall  it." 

"  I  don't  know,  sir.  I  should  think  you  might 
always  have  your  life  as  pleasant." 

"  You  have  found  this  time  pleasant,  then  ?  " 


TESTIMONY.  155 

"0  yes  indeed.  All  time  is,  to  me.  No  one 
could  help  being  happy  where  papa  is." 

"Do  you  suppose  happiness  independent  of 
him  would  be  possible  ?  " 

"  0,  I  hope  not.  I  wonder,  almost,  how  you 
lived  before  he  came." 

"  It  is  not  all  papa,  Miss  Miriam,"  he  said, 
quickly  ;  but  a  glance  at  those  innocent  brown 
eyes  silenced  anything  like  compliment,  and  pres- 
ently St.  Denys  entered. 

"It  is  odd  that  we  see  nothing  of  Arundel," 
said  he,  after  the  morning  salutations. 

"  I  should  n't  be  surprised,"  Miriam  answered, 
"  if  he  came  to-day,  it  is  so  fine.  We  were  talk- 
ing yesterday  of  visiting  one  more  celebrity,  while 
here,  Sir  Rohan.  Can't  we  go  at  once  ?  Which 
shall  it  be,  —  Trevethy  stone  or  Tyntagel  ?  " 

"  You  can  have  both,  Miss  Miriam.    Why  not  ?  " 

"  It  will  take  so  long  —  " 

"  And  when  I  go  to  Kent  you  shall  show  me 
every  hop-field  in  the  county.  I  shall  be  in  no 
hurry." 

"  But  when  we  are  there,  will  you  ever  come 
to  Kent  ?  " 

"It  is  my  turn  to  ask  now,  — <  Do  you  really 
want  me  ? '" 


156  SIR  ROHAN'S  GHOST. 

"  And  mine  to  put  on  the  air  of  a  Monseigneur, 
and  answer,  4  Most  assuredly.' ' 

"  Then  it  will  depend  upon  whether  you  stay 
here  a  suitable  period  without  grumbling." 

"  0  Mr.  Fox !  nobody  knows  better  how  to  ask 
a  crow  for  a  song !  But  we  can't  go  to  both  in 
one  day.  I  '11  toss  up  and  see,"  she  exclaimed, 
laughing.  "  But  I  've  no  pennies !  " 

"  Never  mind,"  said  St.  Denys ;  "  two  roses 
will  do  as  well." 

Miriam  seized  one,  and  a  broad  grape-leaf. 
"  If  the  rose  fall  first,  it  shall  be  Tyntagel,"  said 
she,  "and  if  the  leaf, — why,  Trevethy  !  "  And 
throwing  them  into  the  air,  the  rose  dropped 
instantly,  and  the  leaf  fluttered  downward  in 
doubt  to  fall  or  not.  "  Tyntagel  it  is  !  "  she  cried. 

"  Scarcely  so  fair  as  the  flinger,  though,"  said 
Sir  Rohan. 

"  Now,  now  !  The  rose  is  a  little  the  heaviest, 
and  I  had  a  little  rather  go  to  Tyntagel,"  she 
returned,  pushing  back  the  drooping  hair.  "  Be- 
sides, Trevethy  means  a  place  of  the  dead,  —  old 
British  dead  too,  you  said.  But  one  can  see  a 
grave  everywhere,  and  it  is  doing  the  business  too 
cheaply  to  have  one  stone  for  a  whole  congrega- 
tion." 


TESTIMONY.  157 

"  But  what  present  congregation,  at  the  end  of 
a  thousand  years,  will  be  known  by  so  much  as 
the  fragment  of  a  stone  ?  "  asked  St.  Denys. 

"  And  what  is  Tyntagel,"  pursued  Sir  Rohan, 
"  but  the  monument  of  a  whole  race  ?  " 

"  Well,  gentlemen,  I  am  going  to  Tyntagel,  and 
therefore  to  breakfast.  If  you  prefer  stones  to 
bread,  you  can  stay  and  discuss  the  question," 
she  merrily  concluded. 

Thus  it  came  to  pass  that  the  afternoon  found 
them  at  the  inner  base  of  the  great  cliffs  of  Tynta- 
gel, and  singly  winding  up  the  narrow  footpath. 
As  Sir  Rohan  followed  the  others,  and  the  peril  of 
the  precipitous  way  became  more  obvious  to  him, 
his  heart  beat  with  a  loud  fear  lest  some  false  step 
of  the  adventurous  girl's  might  hurl  her  down  the 
dizzy  height ;  and  he  could  have  found  such  a 
wish,  that  his  strong  hand  might  save  her.  But 
nothing  of  the  kind  occurred,  and  they  stepped 
safely  across  the  breach  of  the  old  fortress,  into  the 
open  area  of  the  outer  portion. 

Behind  them  now  lay  the  great  gap  in  which 
some  earthquake  had  rent  the  rock,  and  far  down 
whose  griesly  chasm  sea-birds  built  their  nests 
and  black  tides  washed  in  and  out,  once  spanned 

14 


158 


by  a  drawbridge  connecting  the  twin  cliffs  and 
forming  a  part  of  the  most  impregnable  strong-hold 
Britain  boasted.  The  low  ruins  of  the  walls  reared 
a  parapet  around  the  edge,  and  leaning  on  this 
lightly,  at  first,  that  it  should  not  crumble  at  their 
weight,  they  looked  down  and  out  upon  the  At- 
lantic which  dashed  at  a  vast  and  perpendicular 
depth  of  hundreds  of  feet.  Above  them,  the  heav- 
en hung  burning  with  yellow  light  and  clearness, 
like  a  giant  chrysolite  ;  and  the  sea  below,  full  of 
stormy  vigor  and  tumultous  activity,  leaped  joy- 
ously to  catch  the  breath  of  the  soft  cool  wind  that 
came  singing  in  from  western  continents,  and 
tossed  a  thousand  white  caps  in  air  with  sonorous 
glee.  Under  them,  hidden  caves  rumbled  to  the 
pent  up  element  and  the  sucking  flow  of  water ; 
and  now  and  then  a  mightier  wave  showered  its 
powdery  foam  half  up  the  unyielding  barrier,  and 
thrilled  it  to  its  centre. 

It  was  too  grand  a  thing  to  behold  and  speak, — 
this  broad  and  boundless  phase  of  the  whole 
ocean's  immensity;  these  warm  swells  rolling  in 
from  reefs  of  the  Corrientes  and  Florida,  from 
Africa  and  the  Western  Islands  ;  this  wind  that,  it 
was  pleasant  to  believe,  had  touched  no  land  since 


TESTIMONY.  159 

it  bent  the  unexplored  forests  on  the  mountains  of 
the  Americas ;  and  they  received  it  in  silence. 
At  last,  as  if  the  white  gulls  had  thrown  the  mel- 
ody of  their  motions  into  a  sound,  Miriam's  voice 
rose  on  the  monotone  of  the  symphony,  in  the 
words  of  the  song. 

Thy  giant  rocks,  O  Tyntagel ! 

Toss  back  the  javelins  of  the  sprays, 
Nor  ever  can  their  shouldering  swell 

Remove  thee  from  thy  flinty  base. 

Idly  the  winds  blow  o'er  thee  now 
That  once  have  swept  a  continent ;  — 

Who  putting  ashes  on  thy  brow 
Long  since  to  ancient  ruin  went. 

The  spell  that  Merlin's  magic  keeps, 

Though  not  omnipotent  to  save, 
Still  hovers  round  thee,  while  he  sleeps, 

Sleeps  bound  and  sealed  within  his  cave. 

What  perfect  forms  of  old  romance 
Crown  thee  in  visions  soft  or  stern  ! 

How  fair  across  the  bright  expanse 

Still  looks  and  sighs  the  sweet  Yguerne  ! 

Still  waits  his  shield  upon  the  wall, 
His  knights  in  chivalrous  content ;  — 

Still  from  his  airy  palace  hall 
Great  Arthur  climbs  thy  battlement. 


160  SIR  ROHAN'S  GHOST. 

Thy  foes  their  laurels  pluck  from  thee, 

Saxon  forgets  that  he  is  such, 
And  Time's  resistless  enmity 

Turns  to  a  lingering,  loving  touch. 

Dance  yet  the  Fays  within  thy  ring, 

The  Fays  who  knew  and  served  him  well, 

Whose  royal  gifts  hung  on  the  King,  — 
Thy  valiant  King,  O  Tyntagel  ? 

O  listen  with  them,  when  the  dawn 
Stirs  in  the  night,  to  that  wild  bell, 

Whose  selfsame  peals  rung  in  the  morn 
When  Arthur  fell,  0  Tyntagel ! 

As  the  last  word  died  from  her  lips,  Miriam 
turned,  with  a  broad  smile,  and  flinging  off  all  sen- 
timent, said, 

"  That 's  what  the  song  says,  Sir  Rohan,  and 
what  do  you  say  ?  Do  you  believe  in  the  Round 
Table,  in  Galahad,  and  Lancelot,  and  Guinever  ?  " 

"  Devoutly." 

"  Let  us  shake  hands  upon  it !  So  do  I.  Papa 
laughs  at  me ;  but  why  not  believe  in  them  ?  They 
were  much  better  people  than  ordinary  then,  and 
surely  it's  refreshing." 

"  My  dear,  I  deny  your  major." 

"  Then,  papa,  you  '11  have  nothing  at  all  to  say 


TESTIMONY.  161 

to  the  kernels  of  truth  dropped  in  debate,  and  we 
had  best  carry  the  argument  to  more  general 
grounds." 

"There  used  to  be  another  song  about  your 
hero,"  said  St.  Denys,  "  though  not  in  so  grandiose 
a  style,  concerning  some  foray  or  marauding  affair, 
— it  would  be  called  petty  theft  now,  if  there  were 
any  law  for  these  epic  monsters.  It  related  his 
address  in  stealing  three  pecks  of  barley-meal,  and 
the  Queen's  skill  in  putting  into  it  lumps  of  suet 
as  big  as  my  two  thumbs." 

"  Fie,  papa  !  " 

"  Those  were  the  fabulous  exploits,"  responded 
Sir  Rohan.  "  Miss  Miriam  and  I  believe  only  the 
canon,  and  reject  the  apocrypha." 

"  Chronicle  or  Romance,  Sir  Rohan  ?  " 

"  Chronicle,  Romance,  and  Tradition ;  a  pretty 
braid  enough,  —  let  the  Romance  be  the  golden 
strand,  though,"  he  replied. 

"  We  must  discard  you  for  an  infidel,  papa, 
while  we  settle  the  points  for  ourselves.  Here, 
Sir  Rohan  !  Look  at  your  feet.  Who  drew  that 
old  circle  in  the  stones  ?  " 

"  Merlin,  undoubtedly,"  he  said. 

"  A  part  of  some  horoscope.     Very  well,  let  us 

14* 


162  SIR  ROHAN'S  GHOST. 

stand  in  it,  and  summon  the  shadows  of  our  an- 
tiquity. They  are  very  far  off;  imagine  that  we 
have  burned  incense  and  these  shapes  grow  from 
the  curling  smoke.  How  dim  they  come  !  You 
begin  to  see  them  ?  Stately  Sir  Caradoc  and  his 
faithful  Dame,  the  bold  butler,  Gawain,  Tristram ; 
now  a  throng  glides  up,  now  separate  and  singly. 
Who  is  this,  King  of  men,  this  mightier  one,  his 
brow  lofty  in  the  shadow  of  a  plume  waving  from 
his  starlike  helm,  clad  in  the  shine  of  armor,  and 
bearing  a  spear  of  light  ?  And  who  this  bright, 
willowy  shape,  all  wrapped  in  gleaming  lawns,  an 
April  face  of  smiles  and  tears,  glancing  askance  at 
Lancelot  already  here  ?  " 

"  Or  perhaps  Guinever  is  in  a  sadder  mood,  — 
chilled  in  the  atmosphere  of  the  King,  —  pale, 
white,  sorrowful,"  interposed  Sir  Rohan. 

"  Hush  !  It  wouldn't  be  Guinever.  Don't 
you  see  her  personality  ?  Tristram's  lady  may 
know  sorrow ;  Marc's,  repentance  ;  but  Lancelot's, 
only  love.  The  others  might  question  of  right  or 
wrong ;  but  it  was  a  part  of  Guinever' s  self  to  love 
Lancelot  and  not  the  King,  and  conscience  never 
stings  her.  Yery  wicked,  indeed,  Sir  Rohan  ! 
But  then  what  a  pretty  picture  Guinever  always 


TESTIMONY.  163 

is  !  A  lawless,  soulless,  wanton,  witching,  lovely 
thing,  without  a  moral  perception,  changing  and 
beautiful  as  a  shower  with  broken  bits  of  rainbow 
in  the  clouds.  And  her  queendoin  and  all  its 
gorgeous  accessories  shrine  her  fitly,  and  heighten 
her  charms.  Who  blames  Lancelot  ?  She  must 
be  queen,  not  because  Arthur  is  king  and  mates 
among  his  peers,  but  because  she  is  Guinever. 
Everything  she  touches  gains  in  splendor.  Lan- 
celot might  be  a  clown  —  who  knows  ?  —  if  Gui- 
never did  not  love  him.  Does  not  a  fresher  green 
burgeon  on  the  forest  shawes  as  they  ride  beneath  ? 
Are  n't  her  falcons,  snarling  at  their  bells  and 
jesses,  transformed  Genii  ?  Does  she  toss  a  flower 
to  her  knight  in  tourney,  —  it  is  a  rain  of  un- 
known petals.  I  wonder  how  he  conquered,  for 
the  sun  must  always  have  been  in  his  face  !  And 
it  is  the  same  Guinever  who  tries  on  the  magic 
belt.  See,  it  was  a  narrow  golden  band  when 
one  by  one  the  faithless  ladies  tried  to  clasp  it. 
Guinever  takes  it ;  the  King  is  angry-eyed,  per- 
haps, —  there  is  a  flush  on  Lancelot's  cheek,  — 
none  on  hers.  Laughing,  bright-eyed,  dimpled, 
she  reaches  it,  brings  it  round  the  slender  waist, 
essays  with  taper  fingers  to  shut  the  buckle.  Of 


164 


course,  it  is  in  vain ;  of  course  the  gap  yawns 
finger-wide  ;  but  where  is  the  narrow  golden  band  ? 
Beneath  her  touch  what  miracles  of  chasing, 
wrought-work,  fluting,  have  blossomed  !  It  hangs 
unclasped  and  heavy  with  jewelry,  dripping  with 
chain,  filigrane,  and  aiglet.  What  loops  and 
fringes  of  sparkling  costliness,  strings  threaded 
with  precious  ransom-holding  beads,  festoons  and 
tassels  of  gems,  brilliant  with  every  tint,  a  sun 
inside  them  all,  and  defying  the  wondrous  work 
of  the  King's  hilt !  Nine  years  it  took  for  that,  — 
for  this,  an  instant.  And  when  she  looks  up  with 
that  radiant  laugh,  I  suspect  the  King  had  rather 
see  it  than  the  shut  buckle.  As  a  piece  of  art, 
she  is  faultless  ;  her  beauty  is  her  virtue,  —  a  per- 
fect, splendid  creature,  in  her  way.  Let  her  go." 

"  Ah,  before  they  pass,  ask  her  of  these  inter- 
vening centuries,  —  in  what  region  they  dwell ; 
these  immortal  lovers,  —  what  life  they  lead.  Will 
they  speak  ?  " 

"  I  wonder,  Sir  Rohan,"  replied  Miriam,  ab- 
ruptly, "  if  people  who  never  used  or  cultured 
their  souls  did  n't  lose  them,  like  beasts  of  the 
field,  as  we  assume  ;  —  living  in  a  world  of  sense, 
if,  sense  dying,  they  died  too.  If  they  dwell  at  all, 


TESTIMONY.  165 

these  immortal  lovers,  it  is  in  some  happy  region, 
they  are  so  blithe  and  fair  to-day.  No,  Guinever 
will  not  speak.  She  does  not  know  our  language, 
and  is  of  a  different  race ;  and  Lancelot  does  not 
see  us.  They  are  shadows  of  dreams,  I  think." 

"  What  then  keeps  them  ?  Whose  power  holds 
them  now  at  your  call  ?  " 

"Didn't  you  ever  notice  how  the  old  masters 
claim  property  in  their  pictures,  sir?  Down  in 
the  hem  of  some  garment,  on  the  under  side  of  a 
spire  of  grass,  just  half  beneath  a  stone,  a  tiny 
scrawl,  the  '  Ghirlandaio,'  or  '  Beatus  hoc  fecit'  ? 
So  invoke  what  scene  you  may,  whose  background 
is  the  stones  of  Tyntagel  or  Carlisle,  there  is 
always  the  signature  of  that  son  of  the  royal  nun 
and  the  Genius  ;  Merlin,  Sir  Rohan,  hoc  tenet." 

"You  are  learned  in  the  lore.  Tell  me,  En- 
chantress, will  Arthur  come  again?" 

"  A  many  tunes,"  Miriam  answered  lightly. 

"And  his  Queen?" 

"No.  He  comes  because  he  went.  Guinever 
and  Lancelot,  it  may  be,  never  died." 

"  What  said  they,  meeting  at  the  tomb,  that  au- 
tumn day  ?  "  Sir  Rohan  asked  again. 

"  Peccavimus.     0  bah !    it  must  have   lost  all 


166  SIR  ROHAN'S  GHOST. 

piquancy  when  the  great  hero  was  gone.  I  don't 
like  the  book  after  Guinever  grows  good  ;  I  don't 
believe  it.  It 's  getting  tiresome  now.  There 
they  go !  Passing  on  and  up  in  what  a  glorious 
cloud,  with  flashing  faces  breaking  from  it  in  radi- 
ant smiles.  Let  them  pass !  " 

Sir  Rohan  smiled,  and  St.  Denys  said:  "What 
new  freak  now,  little  one  ?  " 

"  Freak  ?  —  Why,  papa,  such  a  wind  fans  one's 
life  into  notice." 

"  And  how  much  youth  goes  to  the  fuel  of  this 
precious  flame  ?  " 

"  He  throws  my  years  in  my  teeth ! "  she  re- 
turned, pouting  and  laughing.  "  But  I  'm  not  a 
sexagenarian  yet." 

"  Don't  exhaust  your  spirits  before  you  are,  nor 
forget  the  true  San  Graal  in  your  admiration  of 
the  Emerald,"  he  said,  strolling  away. 

"  He  would  n't  scold  if  he  enjoyed  La  Morte 
d'Arthur." 

"  You  enjoy  it,  Miss  Miriam  ?  " 

"  Certainly.  It 's  a  toysome  book,  —  better  than 
playing  at  dolls  always." 

"  But  your  lore  is  far  more  Rabbinical  than  or- 
thodox. La  Morte  d'Arthur  is  not  responsible  for 


TESTIMONY.  167 

it  all,  I  hope.  And  you  don't  like  books,  you  say ; 
what  attracted  you  there  ?  " 

"  Who  knows  ?  Papa  says  I  live  in  feeling,  not 
thoiight;  in  the  sensational,  emotional,  nothing 
of  the  intellectual.  But  what  odds,  so  one  is 
happy?" 

For  a  little  while  Miriam,  leaning  over  the  para- 
pet, crumbled  the  bits  of  stone  and  moss  into  the 
sea,  and  Sir  Rohan  still  remained  within  the  cir- 
cle, looking  inland.  * 

"Do  you  see  Sir  Kaye  come  riding  up  the  path, 
that  you  are  so  earnest  ?  "  she  asked,  glancing 
back  at  him.  "Or  is  the  nation  marching  to 
Camelford  by  moonlight,  and  Mordred  looming 
beyond  the  town  ?  Remember,  sir,  that  the  Queen 
beseeches  Arthur  not  to  risk  the  kingdom,  but 
wait  till  Lancelot  and  the  flower  of  the  chivalry 
return  from  France." 

Sir  Rohan  felt  as  if  he  were  possessed,  her 
words  and  tone  carried  such  a  life  with  them. 

"  Is  n't  it  grand  to  think,  Sir  Rohan,"  she  con- 
tinued, walking  to  and  fro  with  very  long  steps, 
her  arms  folded,  and  her  eyes  on  the  ground, 
"  that  Arthur  walked  here,  as  I  am  walking  n6w, 
his  spurs  clanging  on  the  pavement,  and  Excalibur 


168  SIR  ROHAN'S   GHOST. 

rattling  in  his  sheath  for  longing  of  the  strife  ? " 
And  she  looked  up,  her  eyes  sparkling,  and  cheeks 
burning.  "  Or  here,  long  before,"  she  resumed, 
approaching  and  standing  beside  him,  with  her 
hand  upon  the  stone,  her  eyes  dewy,  her  smile 
vanishing,  "  was  the  bower  of  his  mother,  that  sad 
Yguerne  of  the  song,  who  sat  waiting  in  vain  for 
her  lord  when  the  banners  of  Uther  Pendragon 
were  spread.  There,  perhaps,"  she  added,  chang- 
ing her  expression  to  one  of  exultant  sagacity, 
"  the  old  magician  learned  his  incantations  of  the 
stars,  when  all  the  castle  but  sentinel  and  watch- 
dog slept;  or  rose  and  passed  them  unseen  to 
meet  Fay  Vivien  in  the  woods,  or  bury  himself  in 
the  Welsh  hills.  To  think  that  actually  here,  in 
this  very  spot,  they  lived,  loved,  moved ! " 

"You  are  intensely  dramatic,  Miss  Miriam! 
Such  talent  of  fusing  your  individuality  is  not  to 
be  wasted,"  Sir  Eohan  exclaimed,  as  he  watched 
the  vivacious  changes  of  her  countenance. 

"  I  am  brought  from  rny  world  with  your  gal- 
lantry ! "  she  replied,  shrugging  her  shoulders. 
"  I  should  think  the  ghosts  of  these  heroes  would 
come  and  haunt  you,  since  you  believe  in  them, 
for  such  levity.  Do  you  remember  the  sword  the 


TESTIMONY.  169 

Lady  of  the  Wood  gave  the  infant  St.  George, 
teaching  him  to  fight  with  shadows  ?  One  I  can- 
not give,  but  for  the  other,  —  you  too  may  fight 
such  shadows." 

With  the  words,  his  old  chains  fell  back  on 
Sir  Rohan ;  he  recalled  what  nothing  but  her 
presence  had  made  him  forget,  and  the  angry 
gleam  shot  again  from  his  eyes,  but  unnoticed 
by  Miriam,  for  St.  Denys  was  drawing  near  with 
a  flat  piece  of  stone  in  his  hand. 

"  Is  it  not  singular,  Rohan  ? "  said  he,  dis- 
playing its  surface,  where  lay  the  impression  of 
a  small  and  delicate  hand  with  a  ring  on  the 
third  finger.  The  inside  of  the  left  hand,  but 
not  a  wedding-ring,  if  one  might  judge  from 
the  fact  that  being  twisted  round  it  had  stamped 
its  jewelled  sigil  there.  A  hot  color  suffused 
Sir  Rohan's  face;  he  struck  one  hand  into  the 
other  with  a  vehemence  that  caused  his  compan- 
ions to  start,  and  see  his  eager  glance  fixedly 
bent  upon  the  stone. 

"It  is  a  piece  of  steatite,  such  as  is  abundant 
in  the  vicinity,  and  forms  a  large  portion  of  the 
Lizard,"  said  another  voice,  proceeding  from 
none  of  them.  They  all  looked  up,  and  Sir 

15 


170  SIR  ROHAN'S  GHOST. 

I 
Rohan  surveyed   a    gentleman,    not    short,    but 

rather  stout,  florid,  and  with  a  most  singular 
cast  of  features,  the  prominence  of  nose  and 
chin  sinking  the  mouth  into  an  abyss  where  it 
was  obliged  to  have  recourse  to  an  unvarying 
smile  to  avoid  total  collapse,  while  the  eyes, 
large  and  light,  shone  shrewdly  beneath  shaggy 
brows.  This  person  was  not  well  dressed,  since 
somewhat  too  showily,  but  had  a  pleasing,  per- 
suasive voice,  and  a  graceful  manner. 

"  The  steatite,  you  are  aware,"  he  continued, 
"  when  first  broken  into  is  soft,  and  will  receive 
any  impression ;  and  this  being  probably  done 
at  such  a  time,  brought  here  and  forgotten  by 
other  sight-seers,  is  after  all  not  so  curious. 
How  do  you  do,  St.  Denys  ?  A  handsome  hand, 
though.  Place  your  own  upon  it,"  added  this  easy 
personage  to  Miriam.  "  It  will  fit  it  to  a  T." 

Miriam  scornfully  turned  her  back  upon  him, 
while  St.  Denys  gravely  inquired  concerning  his 
health,  and  half  hesitatingly  touched  his  prof- 
fered hand.  "  You  need  n't  be  afraid,  St. 
Denys,"  muttered  he.  "I  won't  eat  her." 

But  almost  immediately  Miriam  returned,  and 
presented  him  to  Sir  Rohan  as  Marc  Arundel. 


TESTIMONY.  171 

"  Happy  to  make  your  acquaintance,  sir," 
said  the  latter.  "  A  little  odd,  though,  that  one 
must  come  from  Kent  to  introduce  neighbors." 

"  This  stone  is  like  the  ring  the  miner  gave 
me,"  said  Miriam. 

"What!  you  were  those  down  there,  then?" 

"Yes.  The  earth  opened  and  swallowed  us 
up,  the  other  day,  Mr.  Arundel,"  she  replied. 

"  I  was  passing  the  shaft,  to-day,  when  I  saw 
a  maniac-looking  fellow  lying  on  the  grass  in 
the  midst  of  a  group.  He  had  ascended  from 
the  mine,  they  said,  not  long  before ;  but  the 
world  spun  the  other  way  for  him;  he  was  dy- 
ing,—  raving  feebly  about  a  ring,  and  people, 
who,  I  see  now,  must  have  been  you.  You  re- 
member him,  Sir  Rohan,  —  Dick  Roy?" 

Sir  Rohan  replied  with  such  graciousness  as 
he  could  command,  and  as  St.  Denys  relin- 
quished the  curiosity,  took  it  for  closer  exam- 
ination, and  then  dashed  it  into  the  sea  where 
it  was  swallowed  by  a  hungry  wave.  It  seemed 
to  burn  his  hand.  He  found  himself  more  mis- 
erable than  when  alone;  for  then  he  had  often 
been  strung  to  the  required  tension  of  stoical 
endurance ;  but  here,  every  hour  gave  him  de- 


172  SIR  ROHAN'S  GHOST. 

sire  and  hope  of  freedom,  only  to  be  blasted  in 
the  next  by  encounters  with  the  Ghost  of  his 
youth. 

"I  never  learned  till  now,"  said  Arundel, 
bluntly,  as  he  watched  him,  "  that  you  and  my 
cousin  were  friends." 

"  We  have  been  friends  a  long  while,"  re- 
plied the  other,  absently. 

"They  can  hardly  show  you  a  kickshaw  like 
this,  at  home.  Were  you  ever  in  Kent,  Sir 
Rohan?" 

"  Some  years  ago.     A  short  time." 

"  Good  soil  that.  Healthy  farmers,  worth  a 
lease;  but  they  put  all  their  liveliness  into 
their  hops.  Do  you  think  they  could  dance  a 
reel,  now,  St.  Denys?" 

"  A  reel  or  a  saraband,  if  they  chose,"  was  the 
curt  reply.  Sir  Rohan's  frigidity  was  conta- 
gious, and  Arundel  crossed  to  Miriam. 

"You  have  not  wished  me  good  evening," 
said  he. 

"  Good  evening,"  she  returned,  abruptly. 

"  It  sounds  much  more  like  good  by." 

"You  can  take  it  as  you  please." 

"You   are   cruel,"  he   said  in   a  lower  tone. 


TESTIMONY.  173 

"From  your  kindness  in  the  church,  I  was  led 
to  expect  a  different  demeanor." 

"Dear  me,  Mr.  Arundel!  One  must  have  a 
little  meter  to  mark  the  finer  grades  of  feeling, 
and  accommodate  one's  manners  to  your  moods !  " 

"Rem  acu  tetigisti.  Precisely,  Miriam.  And 
that  meter,  you  cannot  fail  to  know,  is  — " 

Miriam  yawned  with  her  hand  at  her  lips. 

"Isn't  it  time  to  go,  papa?"  she  said  to  St. 
Denys.  "  It  will  be  dark  before  we  reach 
home." 

"Home."  Sir  Rohan  liked  the  word  from 
her  mouth;  he  smiled  unconsciously  while  his 
glance  met  Arundel's.  On  the  instant,  they 
comprehended  each  other. 

"  See  Redruth  sitting  down  there,"  she  added, 
bending  over  the  path,  "as  still  as — " 

"Is  he  asleep  beside  those  remains  of  lunch ? " 
asked  Arundel. 

"  The  cliff.  One  might  drop  a  tortoise  on  his 
head -and  crack  it,"  she  continued. 

"  Crack  which  ?  "  Arundel  interpolated. 

"But  where  would  Redruth  be  then,  I  won- 
der?" 

"  Still    squeezing    his    wine-bottle !  "  said    the 

15* 


174  SIR  ROHAN'S  GHOST. 

quick-eyed  interrupter.  "  He  takes  less  scru- 
ples to  a  dram  than  an  apothecary  does."  But 
having  finished  her  sentence  regardless  of  the 
rejoinders,  Miriam  seized  her  bonnet  and  almost 
bounded  along  the  path,  followed  by  Sir  Rohan 
who,  together  with  the  others,  expected  mo- 
mently to  see  her  dashed  down  the  declivity. 

They  descended  more  leisurely,  and  as  his  un- 
welcome company  was  not  to  be  avoided,  Arundel 
soon  seated  himself  beside  them  in  the  coach. 
Sir  Rohan,  however,  was  now  alive,  and  quietly 
ordering  Redruth  to  take  a  different  route  from 
that  by  which  they  came,  had  the  satisfaction  of 
dropping  Mr.  Arundel  at  his  own  residence,  and 
rolling  homeward  at  liberty  once  more. 

"  Well  done,  Sir  Rohan !  "  cried  Miriam.  "  Now 
you  've  seen  the  man,  tell  me,  do  you  affect 
him?" 

"  We  are  not  likely  to  be  friends,"  said  he, 
dryly. 

"And  need  not  therefore  be  enemies,"  said 
St.  Denys.  "The  sight  of  him  warns  me,  Ro- 
han. -I  must  hasten." 


VIII. 

THE  FOREHEAD  OF  THE  STORM. 

TIME  passed  now  more  swiftly  by  them  all :  by 
St.  Denys,  examining  the  great  estate  with 
Redruth,  offering  suggestions,  and  relating  in- 
credible feats  of  some  machinery  he  had  used  on 
summer  fallows ;  by  Miriam  and  Sir  Rohan  in 
rides  through  the  bridle-paths  of  the  forest,  where 
tangled  vines  impeded  progress  and  occasioned 
sweet  delays,  and  in  rambles  over  the  long  swell- 
ing moors  seemingly  grand  and  boundless  as  the 
sea,  purple  with  crackling  knee-deep  heath  in 
whose  fragrance  the  winds  were  smothered,  and 
broken  only  by  some  white  thorn-bush  bearing 
here  and  there  a  cluster  of  last  year's  scarlet 
haws,  and  with  eagles  screaming  far  above  them. 
Nor  is  it  to  be  doubted  by  whom  he  passed  most 
pleasantly. 
In  Miriam's  thoughts  Sir  Rohan  had  become  as- 


176  SIR  ROHAN'S  GHOST. 

sociated  with  all  the  beautiful  scenes  in  whose 
enjoyment  they  had  been  companions.  He  had 
lost,  to  her  view,  the  air  which  at  first  character- 
ized him,  or  familiarity  had  made  it  more  agree- 
able. There  were  a  thousand  points,  with  which 
St.  Denys  did  not  sympathize,  that  united  them ; 
and  there  was  moreover  a  kind  of  magnetic  attrac- 
tion about  Sir  Eohan,  that  with  his  courtesy  and 
natural  powers  effected  more  for  him  than  any 
youth  or  beauty. 

And  as  for  him  ?  He  found  Miriam  only  more 
lovely  than  the  loveliest  margin  with  which  he 
could  surround  her.  Delightedly  he  listened  to  the 
bird-like  voice ;  her  slightest  touch  thrilled  him ;  — 
bitterly  his  old  pain  and  despair  threatened  to  fall 
should  she  ever  leave  him.  Most  men,  when 
numbering  his  years,  are  best  pleased  by  that 
which  recalls  old  reminiscences ;  but  he,  waving 
those  constantly  away,  was  like  one  who  has  just 
found  his  youth. 

One  sunset,  as  the  two  gentlemen  were  stand- 
ing near  the  shrubbery,  Miriam  came  running  up 
the  fields  from  the  shore,  a  color  blown  into  her 
cheeks,  and  her  arms  full  of  sea-weed,  reeds,  and 
all  manner  of  marine  growth. 


THE  FOREHEAD  OP  THE  STORM.    177 

"  Do  but  look  at  them,  Sir  Rohan ! "  she  cried. 
"  These  blubbers,  nettles,  what-nots  !  They  are 
crimson  and  purple  and  dusty  with  gold.  And 
these  corals,  fine  as  fringes,  like  ragged  rainbows. 
And  oh !  these  bloody  sea-docks.  But  what  is 
this?" 

"  Why,  Miriam,  you  are  loaded  with  that  wet 
stuff,"  exclaimed  St.  Denys. 

"  A  fucus,  Miss  Miriam,"  said  Sir  Kohan,  tak- 
ing it.  "  The  sensitive  plant  of  the  sea.  It  sways 
to  the  heat  of  my  hand  as  if  blown  across  by  a 
breeze." 

"See  these  sponges,  papa.  They  are  the  very 
royalest  purple,  and  fern-shaped,"  and  she  plunged 
among  her  booty  to  bring  one  up.  To  her  chagrin, 
it  had  forsaken  its  rich  hues  with  its  element,  and 
was  only  a  yellowish  brown.  "  O  my  heart ! " 
she  ejaculated,  "when  I  almost  drowned  myself 
to  get  them!  And  what's  the  matter  with  my 
hands  ?  They  are  covered  with  white  blisters  !  " 

"  It  is  the  vengeance  of  the  nettles." 

"  Where  they  stung  me  ?  The  ungrateful  things ! 
I  '11  carry  them  back  directly.  Into  the  water  you 
go,  every  one,"  and  she  sped  down  again  to  fulfil 
her  menace. 


1T8  SIR  ROHAN'S  GHOST. 

"  How  oddly  the  sea  looks,  Sir  Rohan !  "  she 
said,  as  he  accompanied  her.  "  It  is  so  covered 
with  a  kind  of  mist.  And  far  out,  do  you  see,  a 
great  white  line  shining  like  a  low  cloud,  only  it 
keeps  changing,  —  now  high,  now  broken,  gone, 
collected  again." 

"It  is  the  white  forehead  of  a  storm  coming 
over  the  horizon,"  said  he.  "  Or  to  speak  less 
poetically,  you  see  the  blore.  It  is  many  miles 
away ;  listen,  and  you  will  hear  the  rote.  We 
shall  have  a  Cornish  storm  soon,  and  to-night  can 
see  the  briony  without  any  help  from  Redruth." 

"  These  little  birds,  with  their  wings  stretched 
on  the  waves,  look  like  its  prophets.  How  I  like 
such  a  fresh  salt  wind !  " 

"  It  whistles  the  megrims  off  one's  nerves." 

"  And  I  suppose  when  we  looked  at  the  sea 
that  divine  day  at  Tyntagel  this  storm  was  plough- 
ing along  the  distance  and  hurrying  to  meet  us. 
I  must  wade  out  again,  clearly.  Don't  you  think 
I  shall  catch  my  death  of  cold,  get  pains  for 
my  pains,  go  to  school  to  the  rheumatism  and 
learn  to  compare  ache,  acher,  achest,  with  the 
chance  of  a  lot  in  God's  acre  ?  "  she  asked,  laugh- 
ing. "  All  water  is  damp,  you  know,  but  that  with 


THE    FOREHEAD    OF    THE    STORM.         179 

a  storm  in  it  must  be  the  dampest  kind  of 
water ! " 

"  It  is  too  costly  an  experiment,"  he  returned. 
"  Give  your  bundle  to  me,  Miss  Miriam ;  here  are 
some  stones  upon  which  I  can  step,  and  deposit  it 
for  you." 

"  And  that  will  sting  two  pair  of  hands." 

"  Unnecessarily.  Let  me  manage  them,  and  it 
will  soon  be  done  ; "  and  in  a  minute  more  the 
treasures  were  afloat,  and  Miriam  had  challenged 
Sir  Rohan  to  a  race  up  the  slope.  Suddenly  she 
stopped,  with  her  gay  laugh  broken  in  ringing, 
and  pointed  at  a  horse  waiting  near  the  firs. 

"  Don't  you  know  it  ?  "  she  asked,  with  a  look 
of  mock  dismay.  "  Who  is  that  with  papa  ?  My 
hands  need  some  liniment,  Sir  Rohan,  and  my 
eyes  too,  after  seeing  him.  I  shall  go  to  Mrs. 
Redruth  for  it,  and  then  I  shall  go  to  my  room 
and  be  altogether  too  ill  to  come  down  again. 
Good  night,  Sir  Rohan  !  " 

He  watched  her  till  she  disappeared  within  the 
casement,  and  then  by  another  path  joined  St. 
Denys  and  Mr.  Arundel. 

The  latter,  who  had,  of  course,  seen  Miriam,  did 
not  inquire  for  her,  and  did  not  regard  Sir  Rohan 


180  SIR  ROHAN'S  GHOST. 

with  more  favorable  eyes  at  her  absence.  By 
turns  affable  and  sarcastic,  he  mingled  in  the 
conversation  till  obtaining  its  command,  when  he 
conducted  it  to  elicit  Sir  Rohan's  peculiarities, 
causing  him  to  shrink  nervously  from  the  scalpel 
so  suddenly  busy  about  him.  He  remained  with 
them  upon  the  lawn  till  the  great  bell  of  the  hall 
clock  tolled  ten,  when  mounting  with  a  parting 
prophecy  of  rain,  the  galloping  hoofs  of  his  horse 
were  soon  lost  in  distance.  The  wind,  momently 
increasing,  bent  the  tall  trees  heavily  when  the 
sound  became  undistinguishable,  —  and  it  already 
blew  a  gale  as  they  went  in. 


IX. 

SUNSHINE. 

IN  the  morning,  Miriam  found  Sir  Rohan's 
promise  fulfilled.  Torrents  lashed  the  panes, 
the  bowing  branches  swept  the  lawn,  the  wind 
whistled  round  and  through  the  house,  the 
gray  sky  seemed  to  open  and  close  with  gluts 
of  rain,  and  the  great  roar  of  the  sea  filled  the 
diapason  of  the  tempest.  But  to  Miriam  there  was 
a  world  of  sunshine  within,  and  when  she  met  Sir 
Rohan,  himself  like  one  fired  with  purpose  and 
strength  that  day,  and  St.  Denys  with  his  unvary- 
ing equipoise,  she  could  not  have  been  gayer  had 
sunshine  reigned  without  as  well.  Nevertheless, 
indoor  amusements  were  not  many  in  that  house, 
and  on  the  third  day  of  the  storm  Sir  Rohan  had 
recourse  to  a  last  expedient ;  and  as  Miriam  rather 
shyly  proposed  it,  instantly  invited  them  into  the 
room  which  she  dignified  by  the  name  of  studio. 

16 


182  SIR  ROHAN'S  GHOST. 

Here,  strewn  in  every  position,  was  a  day's  delight 
for  her :  portfolios  of  bold  drawing  ;  rustling  water- 
colors,  as  many  and  strong,  she  thought,  as  the 
brown  leaves  of  an  oak  in  autumn ;  and  wonder- 
ful things,  where  the  artist  in  experimenting  with 
his  tints  could  not  avoid  expressing  beautiful  con- 
ceits. Leaning  against  the  wall,  one  upon  anoth- 
er, were  strange,  half-finished  pictures  without 
frames,  pitifully  dented  by  their  mutual  weight ; 
and  here,  scattering  them  around  her,  Miriam  sat 
upon  the  floor  for  their  better  enjoyment,  while 
St.  Denys  betook  himself  to  a  black-letter  chroni- 
cle, and  Sir  Rohan  stretched  a  canvas. 

A  few,  such  as  an  aspen  shaking  through  a 
south-wind  into  the  likeness  of  a  silvery  ghost; 
the  centre  of  a  forest  rich  in  every  shade  of  green, 
gorgeous  with  every  flower  and  fruit  and  plumage 
multiplied  in  stagnant  pools  below,  but  from 
whose  virid  mosses  noisome  vapors  rose,  and  in 
whose  countless  reeds  the  fiends  of  plague  and  ma- 
laria lurked,  —  a  spot  fecund  with  every  venom- 
ous reptile  and  stinging  insect,  —  a  spot  damned 
with  luxuriance  ;  or  the  awful  brows  of  an  eclipse 
brooding  over  space  and  stifling  the  shrinking 
earth  ;  or  a  little  chrisom  baby  stretched  stiff  and 


SUNSHINE.  183 

stark  on  a  yew  bough,  and  watched  by  a  school  of 
wizard  eyes ;  or  yet  again,  a  dread  assemblage  of 
the  artist's  imaginative  terrors,  flocculent  faces, 
that  had  stared  in  his  eye,  hissed  in  his  ear, 
flapped  in  his  path,  and  from  whom  he  could  gain 
no  release  except  by  imprisoning  them  here ;  — 
these  and  other  kindred  Miriam  flung  aside,  as  she 
would  have  flung  the  study  of  a  foot  or  anything 
not  promising  immediate  satisfaction. 

Indeed,  in  every  one  there  was  an  anomaly,  a 
trait  of  the  artist's  individuality,  that  could  only 
be  described  by  supposing  a  soul  to  the  picture, 
expressing,  after  all,  that  wherein  his  pencil  failed ; 
and  this  expression  was  always  the  Ghost,  as  much 
as  if  thrown  herself  in  broad  dashes  of  glimmering 
color  upon  the  canvas.  But  in  the  others,  where 
it  was  less  explicit,  Miriam  soon  found  sufficient 
enjoyment. 

Here  was  a  pearly,  crepusculine  sky,  through 
which  the  spirit  of  the  tenderest  young  crescent 
held  up  her  lucid  vase  to  catch  the  earth's  light 
that^  foamed  high  as  the  rim  of  the  old  moon 
between  its  golden  horns  ;  here  a  white  midnight 
moon  rose  behind  a  line  of  broken  columns  sur- 
rounded by  tideless  lagunas  and  crowned  by  an 


184  SIR  ROHAN'S  GHOST. 

albatross  taking  her  glow  on  the  tips  of  his  white 
drooping  wings ;  and  here  a  long  stretch  of  green 
waves  washed  themselves  to  froth,  and  clamored 
for  a  falling  moon  that  sunk  hastily  into  their 
bosom. 

"  She  has  drunk  her  pearl,  this  sea,"  said  Mir- 
iam, "  and  now  for  the  asp,  Sir  Rohan." 

"  The  darkness  will  bring  that  soon  enough," 
he  responded,  quickly. 

"  I  think  you  must  have  experienced  a  kind  of 
lunacy  in  painting  these  three,"  she  said,  laugh- 
ingly. 

"  Or  found,"  he  murmured  half  inaudibly, 
"  relief  from  it." 

"  You  are  moon-mad  !  "  she  exclaimed,  taking 
up  another  sea-scene,  where,  in  an  atmosphere  of 
delicious  darkness  a  yellow  waning  moon  peered 
half  risen  over  a  gloomy  tide,  and  in  the  light  of 
whose  trailing  splendor  myriad  sea-sprites  rose  in 
shoals,  with  twining  arms  and  tossing  hair,  spring- 
ing from  the  spray. 

Soon  she  turned  to  others.  One,  where  a 
mountain  brook  falling  from  a  ledge,  half-way 
down  tore  itself  to  diamond  dust  out  of  whose 
depth  looked  a  face  like  sunlight,  below  a  wind- 


SUNSHINE.  185 

blown  scarf  of  rainbows  ;  another,  a  delicate  shell, 
from  whose  inmost  spire  protruded  a  minute  and 
perfect  foot  lying  rosily  along  the  whorl ;  a  third, 
where  stepping  from  a  colossal  lotus,  clothed  in 
a  white  shimmer  of  raiment,  her  brow  rubescent 
with  lambent  lanceolate  flames,  stood  the  goddess 
of  the  Ganges  ;  and  one  whence  casting  out  rays 
like  a  shooting  star,  a  rebellious  angel  plunged 
headlong  over  a  black  vault,  known  by  his  shining 
wake  and  the  fixedness  of  sad  still  stars  behind. 
Again, —  one  of  the  immense  yellow-haired  Cimbri, 
nude  and  brawny,  slid  gleefully  on  his  shield  down 
the  icy  glare  of  an  Alp,  the  hollow  of  a  starlit 
sky  above,  and  around  him  frozen  boulders  fulgent 
and  sparkling  in  prisms,  while  beyond  the  horns 
of  some  towering  crag  a  fleshless  hand  rose,  like 
an  apparition,  and  gathered  the  night  down  closer 
over  his  young  savageness.  In  another,  he  had 
caught  all  the  changes  of  an  endless  moor,  the 
shadows  of  sailing  clouds,  the  warm  hues  of  sky 
and  earth  ;  and  over  the  rosy  edge  of  one  only 
heath-flower  in  the  luxuriant  growth  appeared 
the  face  of  a  tiny  curious  being,  who,  full  of  droll 
amazement,  stared  at  another  sleeping  in  its  heart. 
But  all  these  Miriam  piled  together,  when  catch- 

16* 


186  SIR  ROHAN'S  GHOST. 

ing  a  glimpse  of  the  next,  in  which  were  the 
beginnings  of  a  certain  grandeur  soon  melting 
into  pathos. 

"  0  Sir  Rohan,"  she  cried,  "  what  is  this  ? 
Where  did  you  see  it  ?  Is  it  your  genius,  your 
daemon,  —  or  is  it  Demogorgon  ?  " 

"  Your  ideas  are  larger  than  mine,  Miss  Mir- 
iam," he  replied,  glancing  indifferently  towards  it. 
"  No.  It  is  Spring,  or  Autumn,  or  something  of 
the  kind." 

"  But  has  n't  it  any  precise  title  ?  " 

"  You  can  call  it  the  Nemesis  of  Spring,  if  you 
like." 

Miriam  bent  over  it  spell-bound,  all  her  fancy 
charmed  in  the  long  champaign,  the  golden-green 
quivering  of  a  near  willow,  the  dull  red  hollow, 
the  rich  violet  haze  that  bathed  the  level  distance, 
and  far,  far  away,  a  titanean  head  and  shoulder 
heaved  to  sight,  a  dim  brow  receding  in  the  light, 
slanting  showers  falling  from  half-closed  eyelids, 
and  a  watery  smile  breaking  over  the  sad,  grand 
mouth. 

"  Do  you  like  it,  Miss  Miriam  ?  "  he  asked,  at 
length. 

"  0  sir,  so  much !  " 


SUNSHINE.  187 

«  Will  you  accept  it  ?" 

"  Sir  Rohan !  Truly  ?  Will  you  give  this  price- 
less thing  to  me  ?  "  she  exclaimed.  "  Listen  papa, 

—  look !  "  and  she  sprung  to  his  side  to  display  it. 
"  Yes,  my  dear,"  he  said,  absently.     "  But  you 

don't  thank  Sir  Rohan." 

"  Thank  him  ?  "  she  repeated.  "  I  don't  know 
how.  To  think  I  can  see  this  always !  Upon  my 
word,  I  believe  I  never  said  *  thank  you '  in  my  life, 

—  it  is  so  awkward  now  !     It  must  be  very  tedious 
to  have  thanks." 

"  Small  fee  will  answer  here,"  said  Sir  Rohan. 
"But  now,  Miss  Miriam,  essay  the  art  yourself; " 
and  he  placed  palette  and  brushes  in  her  hand,  and 
commenced  his  instructions  which,  amidst  peals  of 
laughter,  she  did  her  best  to  obey,  producing  gro- 
tesque caricatures  in  design  and  color,  and  soon 
showing  him  that  her  customary  drawing-lessons 
had  not  been  wasted,  although  cultivating  no  pecu- 
liar talent. 

"  The  way  to  catch  God's  idea  in  a  landscape,  or 
an  architect's  in  a  building,  I  have  heard,"  said 
she,  "  is  to  look  at  it  with  inverted  eyes.  Now  it 's 
not  so  easy  to  turn  the  world  upside  down,  but 
for  my  picture,  —  presto !  it 's  done  in  a  minute  I " 


188  SIR  ROHAN'S  GHOST. 

and  she  twirled  the  work  round  in  her  fingers  till 
whether  it  were  saint  or  scaramouch  one  could 
not  tell. 

"  What  are  you  two  doing  ? "  asked  St.  Denys, 
looking  up. 

"  Canvassing  matters  of  art,"  she  answered, 
gayly. 

"  I  should  think  you  were  canvassing  votes,  by 
the  noise,"  he  rejoined. 

"  Do  you  catch  any  idea  ?  "  she  asked,  inclining 
her  head  critically  on  one  side  and  the  other.  "  I 
don't.  I  am  afraid  I  've  left  it  out." 

"  How  is  it,  Sir  Rohan,"  she  continued,  after  a 
pause,  "  that  all  your  female  faces,  when  you  put 
anything  of  the  weird  into  their  construction,  re- 
semble me  ?  —  though  one  could  not  be  more  mat- 
ter-of-fact flesh  and  blood  than  I.  They  were 
painted,  too,  before  you  saw  me.  It  must  have 
been  a  prescience  of  my  coming." 

Sir  Rohan  started  ;  —  did  they  ?  But  he  could 
not  convince  himself  that  such  was  the  case,  and 
guided  her  pencil  along  a  difficult  curve  before 
replying, 

"  It  would  n't  be  singular  if  when  Heaven  is  to 
come  into  my  house,  I  receive  some  premonition." 


SUNSHINE.  189 

Miriam  bowed  with  the  coupee  of  a  minuet, 
palette  and  maulstick  waving  in  either  hand,  and 
glancing  over  her  brows  at  him,  with  eyes  full  of 
merriment. 

It  was  not  long,  however,  before  she  deserted 
her  new  employment,  to  look  at  the  blossoms 
snowing  the  grass ;  and  after  lunch  some  needle- 
work was  found,  in  which  she  busied  herself, 
while  St.  Denys  read  aloud  from  his  book,  with  an 
oral  commentary. 

Listening  as  long  as  she  could,  she  exclaimed  at 
last,  "  0  papa  !  The  man  who  wrote  that  chroni- 
cle was  afflicted  with  chronical  dulness." 

"  For  shame,  Miriam !  " 

"  And  what  a  dirty  book !  "  she  resumed.  "  As 
yellow  as  a  war-whoop,  and  the  great  wry  letters 
making  eyes  at  each  other !  I  wonder  it  don't  use 
its  cleansing  power  inwardly,  it 's  such  a  soporific. 
Where  's  the  use  now,  for  a  book  of  old  sinners 
with  new  names,  as  full  of  scandal  as  a  teacup? 
It  must  have  been  written  by  a  confrere  in  wicked- 
ness, who  scampered  through  his  life  while  he 
could,  and  when  he  was  prevented,  made  his  book 
racy  by  imagining  all  the  course  he  should  like  to 
run.  See  how  indifferently  he  huddled  kings  and 


190  SIR  ROHAN'S  GHOST. 

queens  and  crimes  together,  like  flies  in  a  swarm. 
If  he  had  any  sconce,  he  might  have  emblazoned 
other  things  than  royal  peccadilloes  and  saintly 
impostures.'' 

"  Apollo  pastured  the  flocks  of  Admetus,"  said 
Sir  Rohan. 

"  Long  ago.  Pasturage  past  your  comprehen- 
sion. Really,  Sir  Rohan,  do  you  care  a  rush  for 
what  papa  reads  ?  I  don't  believe  a  word  of  it ;  it 
is  just  inef-fable,  and  not  to  be  re-lied  upon  ;  like  a 
bee  in  a  blossom,  all  a  humbug." 

"  You  '11  burn  your  fingers,  you  Will  with  the 
Wisp !  Language  and  powder  are  dangerous  play- 
things." 

"  Both  can  blow  one  up  ?  Well,  papa,  proceed 
with  your  augury,  though  some  of  us,  Sir  Rohan 
and  I,  may  be  unwilling  to  endure  such  a  som- 
nolent procedure.  There,  don't  fear  any  more  in- 
terference ;  that  was  a  cobbler's  armorial  shield,  — 
my  last  and  my  all." 

"  Miriam,  I  am  ashamed  of  you." 

"  Nonsense !  As  if  you  would  n't  have  said  it 
yourself,  if  you  had  thought !  "  she  retorted. 

Indeed,  far  from  interesting  to  the  child  who 
lived  in  the  present  was  this  archaeological  gossip ; 


SUNSHINE.  191 

and  after  the  preceding  feu  de  joie  and  one  or 
two  vain  efforts  at  wakefulness,  the  voice  lulled 
her  into  a  dream,  nor  did  she  wake  till  dinner  was 
announced,  when  Sir  Rohan  had  sketched  her 
sleeping  face  for  that  of  a  Semele. 

As  the  night  fell,  they  all  gathered  round  the 
fire  in  the  drawing-room,  (which  was  now  quite 
repaired,)  and  Miriam,  sitting  on  a  low  cushion 
between  the  others,  bent  forward,  her  face  illumi- 
nated by  the  blaze,  and  recited  the  savage  tales 
she  had  heard  from  the  Pifferari  at  Rome,  till  the 
blood  forsook  her  cheek. 

"  You  have  succeeded  in  thoroughly  frightening 
one,  at  least,  Miriam,"  said  St.  Deiiys. 

"  And  another  too,  papa,  I  dare  say,  only  you 
must  be  desperate  and  conceal  it.  I  should  n't 
like  to  have  felt  so,  the  first  night  we  came, 
though." 

"  And  what  makes  the  difference  ?  " 

"  Why,  I  feel  almost  as  much  at  home  here  as  at 
the  Castle,  now." 

"  That  speaks  well  for  your  hospitality,  Rohan." 

"  Thank  you,  Miss  Miriam." 

"  I  should  be  better  satisfied  if  you,  sir,  looked 
slightly  perturbed,  or  pallid.  But  I  solace  myself 


192 


uy  thinking  110  brigand  of  the  Apennines  would 
succeed  where  I  fail,  since  you  are  so  bold  to  live 
here  alone.  Marc  Arundel  tells  a  good  story, 
though ;  he  '11  im-pale  you  on  its  point ! "  and 
quickly  making  her  adieux,  her  feet  were  heard 
scampering  along  the  hall,  as  if  expecting  each 
flag  to  sink  under  them  before  gaining  another. 

But  Sir  Rohan  might  well  afford  to  laugh  at 
such  machinery  for  terror,  when,  in  the  lack  of 
any  other  excitement,  he  could  always  fall  back 
on  his  Ghost. 


X. 

MR.  ARUNDEL. 

THUS  the  week  of  storm  passed,  stranding  them 
again  on  sunny  weather.     And  with  the  first 
clear  day  came  Marc  Arundel,  a  brace  of  birds, 
shot  on  the  way,  hanging  across  his  saddle-bow. 

"  You  are  a  summer  friend,  Mr.  Arundel,"  said 
Miriam,  in  greeting.  "  Rain  don't  agree  with  you, 
—  melts  you.  Are  you  sugar,  or  salt  ?  " 

"  Both,  as  one  bites.  To  the  friend  sugar,  and 
you  have  not  yet  tasted  the  salt." 

"  Vastly  polite.   Now  go  and  threaten  papa  with 
it,  and  let  us  begin  sparring  comfortably  all  round." 
"  You  began  it  yourself,  Miriam." 
"  And  you  follow  your  flugelman  admirably." 
"  I've  heard  of  thunder's  souring  cream.     Crisp 
as  a  curd,  this  morning.     Though  how  could  one 
keep  good-humored  in  such  gloomy  quarters,  and 
with  a  man  so  possessed  as  Belvidere  ?  " 

17  u 


104  SIR  ROHAN'S  GHOST. 

"  These  are  not  gloomy  quarters,  and  Sir  Rohan 
is  not  possessed,"  said  Miriam,  judicially. 

"  Ah !  Is  it  so  ?  What  a  sweet  air  !  You 
don't  inquire  for  my  health,  —  but  I  never  felt  so 
well  as  on  this  fine  day.  I  've  been  longing  to  see 
a  relative,  these  twenty-four  hours,  to  learn  if  the 
pulse  of  the  whole  race  is  as  even  as  mine.  Where 
is  my  cousin  ?  Speaking  of  a  meter,  the  other 
day,  this  of  blood  is  about  the  best." 

"  Your  cousin  in  the  third  remove  is  there," 
replied  Miriam,  slightly  vexed,  "  coming  with  our 
friend." 

"  My  friend  in  the  thirtieth  remove,  counting 
each  day  since  I  knew  him  as  a  further  distance," 
Arundel  said,  with  a  sneer. 

"  Sir  Rohan  has  n't  much  patience,  I  suspect ; 
and  you  had  best  conduct  yourself  reasonably," 
she  added. 

"  Or  he  '11  pitch  me,  neck  and  heels,  out 
doors  ?  " 

A  look  of  contempt  curled  Miriam's  lip.  "  Your 
phraseology  is  choice,"  she  said. 

"That's  as  I  please." 

"  How  can  you  hope  even  peace  should  remain 
between  us,  when  you  treat  me  with  such  disre- 
spect ! " 


ME.    AEUNDEL.  195 

"  I  would  treat  you  like  a  princess,  if  you 
allowed.  A  man  should  have  the  patience  of  Job, 
to  see  such  a  prize  carried  off  under  his  nose.  Let 
me  tell  you,  my  dear  —  " 

"  You  are  too  familiar,"  she  interposed,  moving 
off  with  a  flashing  eye. 

"  Fiddle-de-dee  !  By  the  sun,  moon,  and  seven 
stars,  Miriam,  if  he  show  his  airs  to  me  —  " 

"  Don  Braggadocio !  "  she  ejaculated  over  her 
shoulder. 

"  But  honestly,  Miriam—  " 

"  I,  certainly,  am  no  relative  of  yours,"  she  ut- 
tered, turning  upon  him ;  "  and  let  me  say,  in 
language  most  intelligible  to  you,  Mr.  Arundel, 
that  I  always  use  a  handle  with  your  name." 

"  Ten  thousand  pardons !  Miss  Miss 

What  ?  "  he  asked  derisively. 

Miriam  had  half  the  mind  to  strike  him  ;  but  she 
had  drawn  it  upon  herself,  and  walked  away  with- 
out another  word. 

"  Silenced  you !  "  said  Arundel,  as  he  gazed 
after  her.  "  And  a  woman 's  easily  conciliated. 
It's  your  turn  and  your  heyday,  —  mine  will 
come !  "  with  which  he  advanced  to  pay  his  com- 
pliments to  St.  Denys  and  his  host. 


196  SIR    ROHAN'S   GHOST. 

"  Now  we  have  you  in  Cornwall,  St.  Denys," 
said  he,  "  hope  you  '11  not  leave  us  till  I  can  take 
you  to  our  assizes  and  other  lions." 

"  I  thank  you,  Marc,"  St.  Denys  said,  "  but  Sir 
Rohan  and  Mr.  Redruth  have  already  shown  us 
everything  of  interest." 

"  I  regret  not  knowing  your  arrival  sooner. 
Have  n't  thought  to  ask  how  you  came." 

"  By  a  packet  from  Brittany,  in  at  Falmouth." 

"  Bringing  your  coach,  I  suppose." 

"  Of  course." 

"  Yes,  you  travel  at  your  ease.  I  've  not  been 
long  in  the  country  myself,  though.  Positively,  I 
feel  hurt  that  you  should  have  come  without  ad- 
vising me." 

"  We  thought  you  behind  us,  on  the  continent." 

"  And  took  that  opportunity  to  see  Cornwall  ? 
Kind  of  you  !  " 

"  No.  We  designed  taking  ship  for  Torquay, 
but  this  offered  first.  We  did  not  come  as  sight- 
seers. What  do  you  find  to  amuse  you  here  ?  " 

"  0,  I  don't  live  on  my  expectations,  St. 
Denys,"  he  said  lightly.  "  There  's  my  place  to 
be  looked  after,  and  being  bred  to  the  law,  —  why, 
I  now  and  then  find  a  case." 


MR.     ARUNDEL.  197 

"  You  like  the  bar  ?  "  Sir  Rohan  asked. 

"  Why,  no,  not  particularly.  Though  there  's 
something  like  a  zest  to  ferreting  facts,  especially 
when  I  have  one  such  as  yourself  in  the  witness- 
box." 

Sir  Eohan  was  silent,  but  St.  Denys  said,  "  Ah  ? 
how  's  that  ?  I  scarcely  understand  —  " 

"  I  mean  a  reticent  fellow,  who  has  plenty  to 
say,  but  don't  mean  to  speak,  and  behind  whom 
there  lies  a  most  excellent  case." 

"  And  what  case  has  Belvidere  ?  " 

"  Sir  Rohan  ?  0,  I  referred  to  his  reticence, 
not  to  anything  else,  I  assure  you.  There  are 
few  of  so  blameless  a  past  as  his,  to  endure  such  a 
test,"  he  replied,  bowing  to  the  one  of  whom  he 
spoke ;  and  Sir  Rohan  bowed  in  return,  though 
well  knowing  that  Marc  Arundel  never  would 
have  said  it  had  he  thought  it  true,  —  impudent 
in  either  event. 

"  I  have  heard,  through  my  steward,"  he  an- 
swered, "  that  Mr.  Arundel  meets  with  great  suc- 
cess." 

"  Yes,"  said  Marc,  tapping  his  boot  with  his 
riding-whip,  "  I  flatter  myself  there  are  few  men 
in  the  circuit  with  a  longer  docket.  I  can  re- 
17* 


198  SIR  ROHAN'S  GHOST. 

fer  to  the  antecedents  of  every  family  iii  the 
county." 

"  You  are  industrious,  Mr.  Arundel,"  said  Sir 
Rohan,  half  scornfully. 

"  And  fortunate.  I  never  met  with  a  failure  in 
my  life." 

"  Never  ?  " 

"  Not  completely  ;  none  irrecoverable.  I  fancy 
a  thorough-bred  lawyer  enjoys  himself  like  a  good 
setter,  —  once  on  the  scent,  and  heaven  and  earth 
can't  stop  him.  How  long  do  you  stay,  St. 
Denys  ?  " 

"  We  go  to-day." 

"  Then  I  am  in  time  to  see  you  off.  Another 
good  fortune,  Sir  Rohan.  You  will  find  a  great 
vacuum  in  your  house,  sir,  after  the  presence  of  so 
lively  a  child  as  my  pretty  cousin." 

"  I  expect  to,"  was  the  brief  response. 

"  But,  probably,  to  a  person  of  your  habits,  one 
easily  filled,"  he  said,  watching  him  as  he  spoke. 

"  Then  you  would  find  it  so  in  my  place  ?  " 

"  How  can  I  tell  ?  "  replied  Arundel.  "  Miss 
Miriam  never  conferred  so  much  honor  on  me  !  " 
And  with  this  thrust  his  manner  told  the  wish  to 
ascertain  how  much  honor  she  had  conferred  upon 


ME.     ARUNDEL.  199 

the  other ;  but  he  obtained  110  satisfaction  from 
the  face  over  which  Sir  Rohan  was,  for  once, 
master. 

In  a  short  time  Miriam  returned,  equipped  for 
her  departure,  and  Sir  Rohan  left  the  two  for  her 
side. 

"  You  do  not  ask  me  to  the  Castle,  St.  Denys," 
said  Arundel,  as  they  stood  alone. 

"No,  Marc.     It  is  plainly  impossible." 

"  Well,  well,  I  '11  overlook  it,  since  I  know 
you  're  too  fond  of  me  to  be  so  rude  intention- 
ally." 

"  When  you  cease  your  persecutions  —  " 

"  I  could  n't  go  now,  indeed,  should  you  press 
it ;  I  have  some  work  that  must  be  done  before  I 
see  Miss  Miriam  again.  Till  then,  I  do  cease 
these  persecutions.  A  fine  suit,  St.  Denys,  —  it 
might  interest  you.  A  large  amount  of  property 
may  change  hands  by  its  means,  and  I  'm  not  cer- 
tain but  it  promises  more." 

"  I  hope  you  will  meet  with  success,  Marc,  in 
all  points  where  success  is  right." 

"  That  implies  a  doubt  of  me,"  he  returned, 
looking  toward  Miriam,  who  stood  by  Sir  Rohan 
with  the  painting  which  he  had  given  her,  and 
which  he  was  now  wrapping. 


200  SIR  ROHAN'S  GHOST. 

"  Is  it  possible  that  any  year  comes  to  you  so 
sadly  as  that  ?  "  she  was  asking  him.  "  When 
you  visit  Kent  we  will  show  you  happier  seasons." 

"  All  seasons  will  be  prodigal  of  happiness,"  he 
said,  in  a  lower  key,  "  where  you  are,  child !  " 
Yet  by  a  singular  self-contradiction,  as  she  met 
his  glance  with  one  so  unconsciously  pleased  and 
happy,  though  it  gave  him  a  quick  joy,  he  turned 
away  with  a  sigh. 

"  The  carriage  waits,  Sir  Rohan,"  said  Redruth, 
at  the  door. 

Sir  Rohan  did  not  stir  till  he  had  finished  wrap- 
ping the  bundle,  when  he  gave  it  to  Miriam,  and 
gave  her  also  a  glance  into  which  he  concentrated 
all  that  other  men  could  say  ;  then,  taking  her 
hand,  led  her  down  and  placed  her  in  the  coach, 
without  trusting  himself  to  speak  farewell.  The 
luggage  was  already  on,  the  servants,  who  had  at 
first  been  left  at  the  inn  but  were  subsequently 
domesticated  here,  disposed  of,  and  St.  Denys  only 
pausing  on  the  step,  to  repeat  urgently  his  desire 
of  seeing  him  very  soon  again ;  while  they  both 
gave  Redruth  a  hearty  invitation  to  visit  Kent 
with  his  master.  Arundel  wished  him  good 
morning,  and  mounted.  Again  the  handsome  face 


ME.    ARUNDEL.  201 

flashed  on  him  from  the  chariot,  but  this  time 
with  how  sweet  a  smile,  —  and  they  were  gone. 

He  went  back  into  the  house  alone,  and  tak- 
ing a  book,  attempted  to  lose  himself;  the  words 
swam  on  the  page,  conveying  nothing ;  he  threw 
it  down,  and  ranged  from  room  to  room,  seeking 
what  was  not  to  be  found.  In  the  heat  of  advan- 
cing day,  all  household  bustle  had  ceased.  Silence 
reigned  throughout.  No  more  light  steps,  or 
jocund  laughter,  —  no  friend  for  speaking,  no 
child  for  loving.  Child  ?  He  knew  he  did  not 
regard  her  in  that  light ;  he  knew  that,  fresh  and 
buoyant  as  she  was,  no  presence  more  womanly 
had  ever  crossed  his  path,  that  the  thing  she 
had  touched  could  not  be  graced  by  others,  the 
sunlight  that  fell  round  her  was  sacred.  But  for 
loving  ?  Yes,  he  answered  himself ;  with  his  whole 
heart  and  soul.  —  And  how  much  was  that  ? 

When  they  had  entered  his  house  —  not  slightly 
unwelcome  —  it  had  been  St.  Denys  for  whom  he 
cared,  to  whom  he  turned ;  but  long  before  they 
left,  Miriam  had  held  his  thoughts  day  and  night. 
What  solace  had  they  brought  him,  —  what  peace, 
brief  and  blissful,  —  how  much  had  been  crowded 
into  these  five  weeks !  He  remembered  Miriam  at 


202  SIR  ROHAN'S  GHOST. 

one  time,  dancing  and  singing  in  his  path,  the  im- 
personation of  a  spicy  summer  ;  and  at  another, 
half  aware  of  some  under-current  of  feeling, 
adorned  by  that  same  gentle  dignity  in  whose 
guise  he  had  first  seen  her.  Who  would  sing  to 
him  now,  —  who,  when  the  dreadful  night  fell, 
would  charm  its  terrors  away,  —  who,  in  any  stress 
of  stormy  weather,  would  fill  the  room  with  light  ? 
Who  was  there  to  teach  him  that  he  lived  ?  Who 
for  him  to  make  happy  ?  Alas  !  they  were  gone, 
and  had  torn  delight  with  them. 

The  house  was  more  lonely  than  a  desert ; 
though  swarming  with  memories,  only  a  desola- 
tion It  was  unendurable,  —  he  would  leave  it,  he 
would  go  to  Kent  as  they  wished.  Why  did  all 
wretchedness  choose  him  for  its  victim  ?  The 
question  answered  itself,  stinging  him  to  elder 
remembrances.  Had  he  not  deserved  it  ?  and  so 
was  it  not  inevitable  ?  This  was  only  the  old  stain 
of  his  existence  spreading  over  new  spaces. 
Should  he  cover  Miriam  with  it  ?  She  was  young 
and  cheerful  now,  he  thought ;  how  long  would 
she  remain  so  with  him?  Could  he  carve  her 
wrinkles  and  inspire  her  sighs  ?  Youth  had  many 
salves  for  sorrow ;  even  if  she  loved  him  now, 


MR.    ARUNDEL.  203 

absence  would  attenuate  and  break  the  connect- 
ing thread ;  the  pain  would  pass  into  forgetful- 
ness.  Truer  love  was  in  keeping  away  from  her. 
No  matter  what  he  suffered  in  his  loneliness,  he 
would  not  go  to  Kent. 

A  good  resolution,  but  will  he  keep  it  ?  We 
shall  see.  Until  this  time,  I  think,  Sir  Rohan,  has 
never  performed  a  thoroughly  noble  action. 

All  nature  had  sprung  up  from  the  tempest  into 
warmer  life.  Home  was  insupportable  ;  Sir  Ro- 
han took  his  hat  to  go  out  and  see  what  fresh 
store  of  coloring,  what  new  gleanings  of  beauty, 
might  be  in  the  woods.  Had  he  gone  with  that 
avowed  design,  I  doubt  would  he  have  brought 
home  anything ;  for  the  gold,  unhesitatingly  put 
at  a  comrade's  disposal,  who  displays  to  the  pro- 
fessed pickpocket  ?  Nor  are  these  secrets  to  be 
had  for  the  asking.  It  is  the  bosom  friend  who 
wanders  with  us  into  our  retirement,  abounding 
in  quiet  sympathy  and  love,  —  whose  vicinity  dis- 
turbs no  vibration,  whose  slightest  touch  is  harmo- 
nious, —  fliat  gathers  them.  But  since  Sir  Rohan 
always  returned  richer  than  he  went,  the  intention 
of  his  walk  was  like  a  draft  at  sight. 

Driven  rapidly  at  first  by  his  mental  vehemence, 


204  SIR  ROHAN'S  GHOST. 

he  had  heedlessly  traversed  a  league  of  the  foot- 
path, when  he  found  himself  all  at  once  within  a 
rod  of  the  highway,  which,  according  to  the  per- 
verse tendencies  of  its  class,  preferred  winding 
round  the  base  of  the  hill  some  eight  or  ten  miles, 
to  taking  the  direct  cut  by  which  Sir  Rohan  got 
there  before  it.  It  immediately  occurred  to  him, 
that  proceeding  slowly  over  the  bad-conditioned 
road,  and  pausing  to  take  leave  of  Arundel  where 
his  more  lonely  way  diverged,  St.  Denys  had  not 
yet  passed  this  spot,  and  he  concluded  to  await 
him.  So  still  was  Sir  Rohan,  so  gentle  all  his 
motions  when  m  the  woods,  that  the  wild  things 
regarded  him  as  one  of  themselves,  and  his  ap- 
proach was  inaudible  to  a  man  who  stood  half  con- 
cealed by  the  crusted  trunk  of  a  tree.  This  man 
wore  a  spur,  —  which  accounted  for  the  horse  Sir 
Rohan  had  passed  beyond,  —  some  game  lay  at  his 
feet,  and  he  was  reloading ;  an  occupation  left,  as 
the  sound  of  distant  wheels  caught  his  ear. 

He  turned  sharply  and  peered  through  the  in- 
terspaces, as  if  satisfying  himself  of  the  identity  of 
some  object.  A  horrid  suggestion  answered  by  a 
horrid  resolve,  like  lightning  made  in  the  south 
and  reflected  again  at  the  uttermost  parts  of  the 


ME.   AEUNDEL.  205 

heavens,  writhed  across  his  lips  and  brow.  For  a 
moment  a  visible  agitation  chained  him  with  a 
shiver  ;  then  glancing  round  as  if  a  fiend  had  whis- 
pered, he  deliberately  finished  charging  the  gun, 
which,  as  the  sound  grew  more  distinct,  he  cocked 
and  raised  to  his  shoulder,  displaying,  with  every 
vein  knotted,  the  flushed  face  of  Marc  Arundel. 

Intuitively,  knowledge  of  the  other's  intentions 
seized  Sir  Rohan,  but  interference  was  as  impossi- 
ble as  if  he  were  changed  to  marble.  The  coach 
drew  nearer,  the  rolling  wheels  spun  through  the 
open  trees,  and  puffs  of  dust  blew  across  the 
hedge.  They  had  passed  him,  they  were  passing 
Arundel.  Not  so.  There  was  at  this  point  in 
the  road  a  gully  worn  by  the  brook  that  babbled 
by  them,  and  over  which  a  rustic  bridge  was 
built ;  a  plank  of  this  had  been  displaced,  and 
the  coach  stopped  while  some  one  alighted  to 
readjust  it. 

The  gun  trembled  at  ArundePs  shoulder;  the 
aim  was  not  satisfactory ;  he  lowered  it,  and  bend- 
ing on  one  knee,  again  settled  it,  again  unaccount- 
ably suffered  the  muzzle  to  fall.  Some  strange 
hesitation  seemed  to  restrain  him  at  the  very  mo- 
ment he  had  awaited,  or  there  may  yet  have  been 

18 


206  SIR  ROHAN'S  GHOST. 

too  much  tremor  to  trust  death  upon.  Was  it 
Miriam  or  St.  Denys  whose  fate  lay  in  that  ball, 
that  hesitation  ?  Not  Miriam,  certainly. 

Slowly  the  arm  rose  again,  slowly  fell.  They 
might  escape  in  his  vacillation.  How  much  he 
must  desire  what  such  effort  was  unable  to  ac- 
complish !  Lusting  after  murder,  too  dastardly 
to  snatch  it.  Faugh  !  It  was  in  cold  blood. 
What  impetuosity,  what  passion,  of  one  kind  or 
another,  was  there  in  this  ?  Amiidel  was  evi- 
dently a  man  whose  whole  moral  sense  and  life 
were  hardly  higher  than  the  level  of  this  moment, 
if,  indeed,  this  were  not  higher  than  they.  Of  the 
two,  ghost-ridden  and  soiled  as  he  was,  Sir  Rohan 
felt  himself  the  better  stature. 

The  plank  was  replaced,  the  coachman  had  again 
climbed  to  his  seat,  and  St.  Denys  was  entering 
while  the  footman  held  the  door.  What  suspense 
bound  the  moment !  Once  more  Arundel  drew 
the  bead  in  sight.  The  gun  was  steady  now,  the 
hand  sure,  but  the  face  white  with  fear  and  horror 
of  the  deed ;  perhaps  his  heart  would  yet  fail  him. 
He  wavered  an  instant  longer,  then  —  whether  for 
retreat  or  advance,  who  can  tell  ?  —  planted  his  foot 
more  firmly  among  the  running  vines.  Torn  by 


MR.    ABUNDEL.  207 

the  spur,  one  snapped  and  sent  the  foot  slipping 
over  a  round  pebble.  Something,  he  never  knew 
what,  struck  up  the  barrel,  he  lost  his  balance  and 
fell  forward ;  there  was  a  flash,  a  report,  and  with- 
out his  agency  it  had  gone  off.  In  the  cloud  of 
smoke,  Sir  Rohan  withdrew  again  to  his  former 
position,  content  with  having  broken  his  spell,  baf- 
fled the  design,  and  seeing  the  ball  pass  over  St. 
Deiiys's  head,  —  for  all  this  had  taken  place  in  an 
instant. 

Arundel's  decision  was  made  as  quickly.  He 
wiped  away  the  flowing  perspiration,  seized  his 
birds,  ran  down,  leaping  lightly  over  the  hedge, 
and  accosted  the  startled  travellers. 

"  There  's  nothing  like  being  a  good  marks- 
man," he  cried,  tossing  the  game  into  the  boot. 
"  Dress  them  at  the  first  inn.  You  '11  have  little 
else,  I  can  tell  you !  Good  morning  again,"  and 
he  sprung  back.  While  Sir  Rohan,  as  if  he  him- 
self had  been  the  guilty  person,  retired  noiselessly, 
and  crept  away  without  a  word.  ,  In  offering 
Arimdel  a  week's  shooting  on  his  preserves r  he 
had  never  dreamed  of  placing  such  quarry  at  his 
disposal.  He  saw  the  coach  rolling  on,  they  were 
safe,  and  he  dismissed  the  matter. 


208  SIR  ROHAN'S  GHOST. 

Absorbed  at  last  in  the  pleasure  of  the  noonday 
woods,  he  advanced,  searching  the  eyes  of  a  tiny 
fluttering  partridge  caught  and  loosed  again, 
watching  the  tawny  gilding  of  some  newt  who 
walked  the  water  with  the  dignity  of  a  doge,  or 
ruffling  wild  swans  in  their  sedgy  nests  by  his  in- 
vading steps.  The  half-ripe  bunches  of  the  roan- 
trees  hung  like  oranges  amid  their  shivering 
leaves;  the  wild  grapes  were  beginning  to  red- 
den ;  the  indolent  birds  sat  silent  on  the  boughs, 
hardly  distinguishable ;  the  trumpet  bignonias 
leaped  from  tree  to  tree,  scarlet  in  exuberant 
beauty.  Sir  Rohan  with  determination  banished 
everything  but  the  present  enjoyment,  sensuous 
though  it  might  be,  from  his  mind ;  and  examin- 
ing the  inflorescent  galls  of  the  blueberry,  downy 
as  if  sprinkled  with  fresh-fallen  snow,  and  brilliant 
with  stains  of  carmine  and  cream,  scraping  the 
lichen  from  stones,  the  moss  from  trees,  following 
the  sparhawks  wheeling  above  in  open  spots,  or 
the  little  serpents  twisting  like  tendrils  or  green 
sunbeams  among  the  eggs  of  a  deserted  nest,  he 
still  extended  his  walk,  meeting  no  one  but  some 
solitary  peat-digger  splashing  through  regions  of 
shaking  heath ;  nor  did  he  return  till  the  sun  had 


MR.    ARUNDEL.  209 

passed  the  meridian,  and  lie  had  gathered  marvel- 
lous hints  for  his  painting. 

The  servants  had  not  known  of  his  aosenee, 
and  as  he  entered  the  shrubbery  a  familiar  horse, 
tied  there,  met  his  eye  again ;  and  passing  the 
great  cellar-doors,  he  observed  that  they  were 
open.  Somewhat  surprised,  he  paused  a  mo- 
ment to  glance  in,  without  impeding  the  broad 
stream  of  sunshine  that  flooded  it  with  mellow 
warmth. 

A  cask  had  been  drawn  into  this  light,  on  its 
head  were  two  or  three  flasks,  of  choice  seals; 
and  by  it,  at  opposite  sides,  sat  Redruth  and  the 
ubiquitous  Marc  Arundel.  The  former,  with 
flushed  face  and  fiery  features,  holding  up  his 
long  glass  to  catch  a  sparkle  in  its  crimson  depth, 
and  speaking  with  animation.  The  latter,  looking 
like  the  man's  familiar,  with  a  cool  perseverance 
about  him,  and  his  glass  untouched.  It  was  evi- 
dent that  the  garrulous  Redruth  had  drank  too 
freely,  and  that  Arundel  was  profiting  by  his 
frailty. 

"  The  blood  of  summer,  Mr.  Arundel,"  he  said, 
but  half  intelligibly.  "  Are  rubies  so  red  ?  " 

"  Ah !     Rare  wine  indeed,  rarely  kept.     But  as 

13*  N 


210  SIR  ROHAN'S  GHOST. 

you  were  saying,  sir,  your  young  master  —  "    Sir 
Rohan  heard  replied. 

"  Had  been  gone  not  a  day  from  the  —  I  mean 
not  a  year  from  the  day  he  and  the  young  lady 
came,"  resumed  Redruth,  "  when  one  dripping 
wet  night,  looking  as  he  had  been  dragged  through 
a  city,  he  came  back  without  any  warning." 

"And  alone,  as  you  said.  But  did  n't  stay 
long  ?  " 

"  Did  n't  stay  long,  you  asked  ?  "  he  replied  fee- 
bly. "  No,  he  left  just  as  suddenly,  in  a  week's 
time  or  less,  and  seemed  wild  and  stunned,  and 
then  restless  and  uneasy,  as  if  expecting  some- 
thing ;  and  all  in  a  hurry  flew  to  the  wars,  and 
did  n't  come  home  again  for  ten  years  or  so." 

Sir  Rohan's  first  purpose  had  been  to  pass  with- 
out interruption,  the  next  to  confound  such  inso- 
lence by  his  entrance  ;  but  he  could  not  endure  to 
meet  what  he  felt  must  be  the  man's  consterna- 
tion, and  would  have  proceeded  on  his  way  had 
not  their  words  attracted  him  as  he  lingered  in 
doubt.  How  much  Redruth,  under  the  influence 
of  his  potations,  had  told,  how  much  of  his  past 
life  Redruth  was  able  to  tell,  he  did  not  know. 
It  could  be  no  great  amount,  he  thought. 


ME.    ARUNDEL.  211 

"  And  after  he  went,  you  received  this  singular 
message.  Repeat  it,  Mr.  Redruth." 

"  Singular  message  ? — why,  sir,  you  Jve  no  mem- 
ory at  all!" 

"  True.  But  you  've  a  most  extraordinary  one. 
Enough  for  two.  A  wonderful  memory." 

"  Ha  !  ha  !  Thankee,  sir.  Fill  your  glass,  Mr. 
Arundel  ?  Clear  juice  !  " 

"  And  this  message  ?  " 

"  0 !  A  tramper  brought  it  to  me  from  an 
old  woman  in  one  of  the  east  counties,  he  said ; 
to  tell  my  master  that  she  would  n't  disgrace  the 
memory  of  her  grandchild  by  hanging  him,  but 
there  were  them  as  lived  by  Ronald's  Tower  that 
could." 

"Ronald's  Tower?  That's  his  place  in  the 
north,  I  think.  And  why  didn't  you  give  him 
this  message  ?  " 

"  Why  did  n't  I  give  him  this  message,  —  why 
did  n't  I  give  him  this  message  ?  "  reiterated  Red- 
ruth  thickly,  endeavoring  to  gather  the  import  of 
the  words  through  a  vague  sense  of  danger.  "  Try 
another  bottle,  sir  —  message  —  0  !  I  may 
have  thought  it  was  only  some  spiteful  person's 
impudence,"  he  said,  speaking  as  though  his  mouth 


212  SIR  ROHAN'S  GHOST. 

were  full,  and  makin  •  much  effort  to  articulate  ; 
"  or  maybe  I  was  afraid.  I  don't  clearly  remem- 
ber, sir,  just  now.  It 's  a  dreadful  warm  day  !  " 

"  And  before  that  ?  "  queried  Arundel. 

"  Before  that  ?  Who  told  you  anything  about 
before  that  ?  "  exclaimed  his  vis-d-vis,  with  the 
sudden  pugnacity  of  another  glass.  "  I  should  like 
to  know  what  for  are  you  round  prying  into  your 
neighbor's  affairs.  My  master  's  a  good  master, 
sir,  and  minds  his  own  business,  which  is  more 

than  all  masters  do !  And  as  for  his  Miss,  

what 's  that  to  you  ?  you " 

But  here  the  impetus  failed  him;  he  looked 
round  fearfully,  then  vacantly,  and  dropping  his 
head  upon  the  cask,  burst  into  maudlin  tears. 

Arundel  rose  to  go,  and  as  he  turned  saw  Sir 
Rohan  standing  gravely  in  the  doorway. 

"  I  am  concerned,  Mr.  Arundel,"  said  the  latter, 
stepping  down,  "  that  in  my  absence  you  should 
be  obliged  to  seek  refreshment  in  my  cellars,  and 
waste  your  conversation  on  servants.  Let  me  beg 
you  to  finish  your  repast  in  the  dining-room." 

"  Thank  you,  sir.  No  occasion  for  concern. 
Not  this  morning,"  said  the  other,  buttoning  his 
coat  coolly,  as  he  recovered  from  a  temporary 
abashment. 


MR.     AEUNDEL.  213 

"  You  did  n't  proceed  so  far  as  you  intended," 
Sir  Rohan  remarked,  viewing  him  quietly. 

"  0,  quite !  And  remembering  that  Mr.  Red- 
ruth  was  witness  in  one  of  my  suits,  returned,  and 
found  him  here." 

"  You  lie,  sir ! "  exclaimed  Sir  Rohan,  pale 
with  rage,  and  kindling  at  the  spark. 

"  Where  did  I  find  him,  then  ?  " 

"  You  lie,  you  coward  !  Must  I  repeat  it  ? 
That 's  not  what  you  came  for !  But  there 's 
powder  and  ball  above,  and  you  don't  go  home 
without  them !  " 

"  Not  I,  sir,"  answered  Arundel,  who  had  too 
precious  a  booty  to  be  shot  down  for  it.  "I 've 
no  dispute  with  you,  sir.  We  're  quits,  certainly, 
if  your  eaves-dropping  —  " 

Sir  Rohan  seized  an  empty  flask  to  break  upon 
him ;  his  own  lips  were  blue,  his  cheeks  bloodless, 
nostrils  quivering,  eye  flashing, — he  had  undergone 
a  complete  metamorphosis.  But  the  other,  cower- 
ing beneath  and  avoiding  the  blow,  sprung  past 
him  from  the  cellar,  when,  quickly  reaching  his 
horse,  he  vaulted  into  the  saddle  and  dashed 
away. 

Sir  Rohan  walked  toward  Redruth.     Some  bold 


214  SIR  ROHAN'S  GHOST. 

vengeance  swept  through  his  mind ;  but  he  was 
not  so  young  as  once,  and  now,  after  a  delay,  he 
clinched  the  old  man's  shoulder,  and  caused  him 
to  raise  his  head  and  turn  his  stupefied  gaze  on 
him. 

"  Redruth !  "  he  said,  between  his  set  teeth, 
"  if  you  wish  to  live  an  hour  from  that  time,  never 
let  my  name  be  in  your  thoughts  or  on  your  lips 
again  when  speaking  to  a  third  person  !  "  And 
dropping  the  nerveless  shoulder,  he  left  the  place 
as  he  had  entered,  sought  the  hall-door,  and 
mounted  to  his  painting-room. 


XI. 

WORK. 

SIR,  ROHAN,  recalling  the  occurrences  concern- 
ing which  Redruth  had  been  cajoled  into  im- 
parting all  he  knew,  could  not  discover  that  that 
had  been  much,  or  that  Arundel  could  in  any  way 
use  it  to  his  disadvantage.  He  had  himself 
learned  one  new  fact,  —  that  of  the  message  ;  but 
the  old  woman  referred  to  could  have  spoken 
only  on  surmise,  he  reflected,  if  there  were  any 
such  person  at  all,  which  he  doubted  ;  and  con- 
sidering the  affair  of  no  further  importance  he 
dropped  it,  and  once  more  recommenced  work. 

There  had  grown  to  be  something  painful  about 
this  picture  now,  as  though  it  were  a  thing  long 
held  in  suspense  and  reproaching  him.  He  had 
neglected  it  lately,  and  had  only  with  difficulty 
prevented  Miriam  from  raising  its  veil,  for  by 
some  instinct  he  could  not  suffer  her  to  look  upon 


216  SIR  ROHAN'S  GHOST. 

it ;  and  he  had  found  that  the  spirit  that  fed  his 
pencil  wavered,  as  if  invariably  subject  to  some 
antagonistic  attraction.  Now  again  constantly  as 
ever  he  employed  himself,  the  lark  not  earlier, 
the  glowworm  scarcely  later.  The  last  brief  weeks 
had  infused  a  healthier  sense,  and  he  hoped  to 
realize  it  in  his  performance. 

Other  weeks  sped  by,  and  a  few  more  would 
complete  it.  What  should  he  do  then,  he  one  day 
thought ;  but  resolved  to  let  that  time  decide  for 
itself.  The  memory  of  Miriam  he  tried  to  banish  ; 
but  as  well  hold  the  wind  from  blowing.  She 
asserted  herself  as  firmly  in  his  mind  as  the  Ghost 
of  yore  ;  yet  he  clung  to  his  purpose  resolutely, 
nevertheless. 

Working,  as  before,  when  the  light  grew  dim, 
again  he  saw  fine  points  of  white  lustre  pass  from 
his  brush  and  diffuse  themselves  beneath  it.  In 
the  mornings,  frequently,  something  like  a  mist 
seemed  to  cover  the  surface,  which  clearing  away 
at  his  approach,  left  a  darker  atmosphere  beneath, 
emitting  faint  coruscations  till  sucked  up  by  the 
canvas.  And  as  he  drew  nearer  conclusion,  every 
night,  he  thought,  tenuious  balls  of  fire  shot  from 
the  spot  on  the  lawn  where  he  had  seen  Miriam 


WORK.  217 

crowned  with  azalias,  into  his  painting.  Far  from 
ascribing  these  things  to  his  Ghost,  as  once  he 
would  have  done,  he  believed  them  to  be  owing  to 
the  electric  and  miasmatic  agencies  of  the  place, 
and  planned  a  new  home  for  the  future,  in  his 
fancy,  should  she  leave  him  longer  in  this  appar- 
ent freedom. 

Now  he  ventured  to  add  some  last  tint  to  the 
eyes  ;  what  wonder  if  Miriam's  had  escaped  from 
his  heart  to  the  work,  brighter  and  larger  than  the 
truth,  and  gathering  life,  as  it  were,  at  every  trace 
of  his  pencil  ?  The  air  rustled  about  him  there 
before  his  easel  with  low  sibilatioiis,  even  the  dark- 
ness, as  he  lay  in  the  room  with  it,  put  out  an 
arm  toward  it,  and  his  idle  pencil  glowed  like  the 
finger  that  wrote  mene,  mene,  on  the  wall.  A  slow 
infiltration  of  some  unknown  chemistry  seemed  in 
process, —  a  dangerous  alchemy  transmuting  all 
he  did  with  its  own  gloss,  and  holding  his  latest 
stroke  in  flux,  till  at  turn  of  tide  a  hand  —  how 
dim  and  weak,  like  the  ghost  of  a  ghost  —  took 
shape,  and  flitted  with  mysterious  falterings  round 
pencil,  palette,  and  picture.  It  was  his  Ghost,  he 
knew,  essaying  to  come  back  and  add  her  few 
dreadful  touches  ;  but  what  power  she  had  met 

19 


218 


superior  to  diminish  and  dissipate  her  influence, 
he  could  not  imagine,  nor  why  that  which  had  so 
often  mastered  him  should  now,  at  his  recogni- 
tion, retreat  round  the  easel  and  vanish  into  a 
hostile  gloom. 

But  at  length  there  came  a  morning  at  the 
close  of  summer,  when  he  believed  nothing  was 
left  to  do,  and  some  such  rejoicing  exclama- 
tion may  have  passed  his  lips.  For  simultane- 
ously, all  the  air  of  the  room  seemed  seized  by  a 
strong  throe,  swelling,  through  sharp  and  tremu- 
lous palpitations,  as  if  bursting  with  unseen  ful- 
ness, till  it  shivered  in  a  quick  rebound,  and  a 
long-drawn  sigh  of  exquisite  relief  died  away  into 
silence.  It  was  finished. 

Sir  Rohan  swept  aside  his  implements,  and 
determined  not  to  see  it  again  immediately,  that 
coming  the  next  time  with  an  eye  grown  some- 
what unfamiliar,  any  remaining  defect  might  strike 
him  more  obviously  ;  and  although  a  feeble  af- 
finity still  drew  him  back,  he  resisted,  and  left 
the  work  alone. 

In  the  drawing-room  Sir  Rohan  found  every- 
thing nearly  as  it  had  been  left,  for  all  the  ser- 
vants had  not  yet  been  dismissed,  and  Nell  and 


WORK.  219 

Nan,  Mrs.  Redruth's  maids,  contented  themselves 
by  keeping  the  rooms  in  order,  without  interfering 
with  their  arrangements.  Here  was  the  book  as 
St.  Denys  had  laid  it  down,  there  the  little  lace- 
wrought  handkerchief  that  Miriam's  careless  wont 
had  left  in  a  crumpled  heap  on  the  clavichord, 
and  still  withering  in  their  vase  from  which  all 
the  water  had  long  evaporated,  were  the  stems  of 
those  flowers  she  had  gathered  on  the  morning  of 
her  departure.  But  the  charm  that  had  animated 
the  whole  place  was  gone,  —  all  things  were 
crammed  with  life  only  because  of  Miriam.  The 
first  respite  he  had  enjoyed  from  the  misery  of 
nearly  twenty  years  she,  he  fancied,  had  pro- 
duced ;  and  questioning  how  those  few  weeks 
should  be  capable  of  such  effects,  he  saw  them  as 
the  point  throwing  all  his  past  life  into  perspec- 
tive. The  cloud  no  longer  overshadowed  him  ;  — 
lie  had  passed  out  from  it,  he  believed,  and  Mir- 
iam, in  her  youth  and  beauty,  was  the  first  to 
meet  him.  Should  he  therefore  sacrifice  her  ? 
But  if  he  suffered  pain  then,  was  it  happiness  that 
this  loneliness  gave  him  ?  Once,  he  knew,  he 
could  have  imagined  no  greater  height  of  bliss 
than  to  be  free  of  the  Ghost,  Less  agonizing  than 


220  SIR  ROHAN'S  GHOST. 

the  Ghost,  but  hardly  less  bitter,  he  felt  this  re- 
nunciation of  love  to  be  ;  and  he  longed  to  see 
her  again,  as  the  watcher  longs  for  morning.  He 
never  asked  if  he  were  pampering  a  fond  vanity, 
for  it  seemed  as  natural  that  Miriam  should  love 
him,  once  known,  as  that  she  should  command 
the  love  of  all  others.  But  he  repressed  the 
aching  at  his  heart,  and  dangerously  resolved 
again  to  cherish  the  thought  of  her  in  dis- 
tance, to  let  her  memory  sweeten  long  wakeful 
nights  and  lighten  dim  days,  —  to  worship  her,  in 
short,  without  a  word,  in  a  real  self-abnegation, 
free  from  all  hope  of  reward.  Was  it  not  more 
blessedness  to  love  than  to  be  loved  ?  Surely  love, 
so  used,  crowned  and  glorified  itself.  But  it  was 
in  his  fancy,  —  not  in  himself.  Perchance,  had  he 
kept  his  vow,  the  Ghost  had  kept  her  truce.  Ebn 
Thaher  reasoned,  says  the  old  Arabian  tale,  but 
Aboulhassan  loved. 

He  had  received  a  letter  from  St.  Denys  an- 
nouncing their  safe  arrival,  which  he  always  car- 
ried about  him,  for  a  postscript  had  been  added 
over  Miriam's  scrawling  signature.  Which  docu- 
ment we  give  below,  having  taken  the  liberty  to 
spice  it  with  punctuation  and  capitals,  the  thing 


WORK.  221 

being  none  the  less  hearty  because  she  had 
omitted  that  ceremony. 

"I  was  so  glad  to  be  at  home  again,"  —  it  ran, 
— "  that  I  never  thought  how  sorry  I  should  be, 
directly,  to  have  left  you.  But  we  miss  you  so 
very  much,  Sir  Rohan,  that  you  must  come 
immediately,  and  not  misuse  us." 

This  he  had  not  answered,  yet  something  of  her 
later  presence  seemed  haunting  it,  and  as  he  paced 
the  room  he  laid  it  for  an  instant  by  the  handker- 
chief. 

A  little  urchin  —  whom  Miriam,  with  kisses 
and  sugar-plums,  had  frequently  seduced  from  one 
of  the  cottages,  with  whom  he  had  seen  her  frol- 
icking in  the  grass,  and  whom,  bending  towards 
him  with  the  gentlest  caress  and  merriest  smile, 
he  had  seen  her  leading  over  the  lawn — now 
came  with  abundant  daisies  clutched  in  both 
hands,  as  doubtless  he  had  come  before,  and 
flattening  his  small  face  against  the  window, 
looked  in  with  wistful  eyes  for  Miriam.  Sir  Ro- 
han knew  what  he  wanted ;  he  wanted  it  too ;  and 
his  impulse  was  to  beckon  him ;  but  he  could  not 
remember  the  time  when  he  had  spoken  to  a  child, 
and  while  he  hesitated,  the  visitor,  frightened  at 

19* 


222  SIR  ROHAN'S  GHOST. 

his  stern,  pale  look,  retreated.  It  was  odd  that 
such  a  trifle  should  strengthen  Sir  Rohan's  reso- 
lution. 

But  now  that  the  old  occupation  was  gone,  the 
dreary  man  felt  the  necessity  of  fastening  his 
attention  elsewhere,  and  for  once,  being  in  the 
mood,  sought  for  some  good  to  be  done  to  others. 
There  was  sufficient  awaiting,  without  leaving  his 
own  land.  He  would  regulate  and  repair  his 
house  and  its  surroundings ;  he  would  improve  the 
condition  of  his  tenantry,  of  whom,  questionless, 
many  were  suffering ;  he  would  place  education 
within  the  reach  of  those  who  desired  it ;  he  would 
inspire  the  desire.  It  was  not  too  late  to  expiate 
his  youth.  He  would  commence  at  once ;  and 
with  a  new  energy  he  stepped  into  the  hall,  scent- 
ing the  powerful  fragrance  drafting  through  the 
open  doors,  from  the  greenhouse.  Well,  they 
were  pretty  dreams! 

But  at  the  foot  of  the  staircase  a  change  over- 
came him,  the  color  fell  from  his  face  again.  An 
instant  ago  so  elastic,  now,  with  drooping  head  and 
pensive  air,  he  could  scarcely  move.  Some  power- 
ful attraction  seemed  drawing  him  above  ;  but  if  he 
yielded  to  this,  would  not  the  more  powerful 
attraction  of  Miriam  conquer  again  ? 


WORK.  223 

Nevertheless,  whatever  force  it  was,  battling  it 
at  every  step,  or  wearily  acquiescing,  he  submitted, 
and  slowly  ascended  to  the  door  of  his  painting- 
room.  Once  there,  the  door  seemed  to  burst  open 
for  his  entrance,  and  the  alluring  power  to  bring 
him  yet  more  swiftly  till  he  stood  before  his  pic- 
ture. Let  us  also  look  at  the  thing. 

It  is  not  a  small  canvas,  being  about  four  feet  in 
height,  although  rather  longer  than  broad,  and  is 
set  in  a  quaint  frame  of  black,  carved  wood,  with 
an  inner  reglet  gilt  to  relieve  the  want  of  that 
color  in  the  painting.  It  is  full  of  purple,  misty 
shades,  with  one  or  two  flashes  of  light,  yet  at  first 
sight  devoid  of  interest,  for  the  only  object  seems 
to  be  a  tiny  balance  held  by  invisible  fingers.  One 
scale  descends,  the  other  ascends ;  in  either  lies  a 
violet.  These  violets  are  exquisitely  finished,  the 
hue  soft  and  rich,  while  the  tissue  of  the  petals  is 
of  ethereal  delicacy.  They  are  relieved  by  a 
doubtful  reflex  of  crimson  drapery.  In  the  heart 
of  the  upper  one  rests  a  dew-drop,  a  large  liquid 
diamond  that  has  caught  the  very  spirit  of  concen- 
trated lustre.  It  is  singular  to  observe  that  the 
only  light  in  the  picture  radiates  from  this  dew- 
drop  as  from  a  sun.  But  its  jewel  has  not  en- 


224  SIR  ROHAN'S  GHOST. 

lianced  the  beauty  of  the  flower ;  on  the  contrary, 
it  is  wilted,  and  the  fierce  rays  have  creased  the 
frail  film,  and  exhaled  the  sweet  juices.  No  dew- 
drop  seals  the  heavier  violet.  It  lies  alone,  as  if 
just  plucked  from  the  woods,  nursed  by  sunshine, 
fashioned  by  south  winds,  yet  fed,  cherished,  and 
utterly  impregnated  with  the  life  and  beauty  of 
morning  dew.  Its  soft  blue  bloom  is  unimpaired, 
its  fresh  grace  seems  imperishable,  one  fancies  that 
it  fills  the  room  and  picture  with  a  subtile  fra- 
grance ;  a  long-stemmed  leaf  of  tenderest  green, 
pulled  from  the  parent  root,  lies  beside  it.  Your 
eye  lingers  on  the  ungemmed  violet,  for  the  con- 
fused tinge  of  the  remainder  of  the  canvas  does 
not  entice,  and  you  wonder  why  it  was  not  framed 
in  six  inches. 

But  gazing  so  long,  something  seems  to  unfold, 
some  mist  to  lighten ;  you  are  aware  of  the  sugges- 
tion of  a  finger  on  which  the  balance  rests,  and 
tracing  it  up,  a  round  arm,  that  grows  whiter  as 
you  pierce  the  smoky  wrapping,  till  it  melts  into 
a  shoulder  of  the  perfect  mellow  mould  of  a 
ripened  pear,  a  curve  of  the  neck,  a  face,  while  long 
hair  like  a  cloud  of  refined  shadow  shrouds  the 
rest,  and  is  hardly  distinct  from  the  dark  purple 
background. 


WORK.  225 

Delighted  at  having  discovered  a  face,  and 
almost  imagining  yourself  the  first  who  has  done 
so,  you  stay  like  one  entranced  till  the  beauty 
you  are  sure  must  be  there  resolves  before  you. 

Behind  the  mist,  the  gauzy  vapor,  the  oval 
brightens  with  a  faint  color  in  the  cheek,  you  even 
see  the  dimple  in  the  chin.  Each  feature  gains 
clearness,  and  the  eyes  illumined  by  the  dew-drop 
open  on  your  sight. 

You  feel  sure  that  the  room  must  be  swarming 
with  other  intelligences  waiting  upon  those  eyes. 
Words  fail  to  express  their  charm.  They  are  full 
of  a  dreamy  languor,  they  are  large,  serene,  and 
obscure,  they  are  like  a  flame  or  sunshine  or  gold 
seen  through  wine  or  any  brown  transparency, 
they  are  a  little  darker  than  topaz,  they  imbibe 
rather  than  emit  a  sparkle,  they  seem  to  have 
filled  themselves  with  the  whole  glory  of  a  Roman 
summer. 

You  are  still  satisfied,  but  in  a  measure  trained, 
and  glancing  down  an  instant,  it  appears  that  the 
upper  scale  with  its  violet  and  dew-drop  forms 
only  a  superb  ring  for  some  one  yet  undetected ; 
searching  for  whom,  you  detain  in  the  lower 
corner  a  face  turned  upward,  fainter  far  than  the 


226  SIR  ROHAN'S  GHOST. 

other,  white,  earnest,  the  eyes  almost  quivering 
with  eagerness,  the  brow  beaded,  the  darkness 
receding  from  it  in  folds  as  if  brushed  aside  by 
keen  motion,  the  whole  suffused  with  a  wild  radi- 
ance. It  might  be  Lucifer.  The  light  is  so  man- 
aged that  this  is  the  only  object  casting  a  distinct 
shadow.  His  extended  hand  is  a  flash. 

There  should  be  something  counter  to  this ;  and 
erelong,  higher  up  than,  but  not  far  distant  from 
the  first  face,  another  issues  into  life.  It  is  not 
remarkable  except  for  its  placidity.  It  looks  down 
from  its  cloud  as  if  full  of  heavenly  content ;  you 
perceive  the  shades  are  lighter  around  it,  and  at 
once  notice  its  air  of  vigilance  and  certainty.  All 
the  calm  influence  of  the  painting  spreads  from 
that.  It  might  be  some  seraph  whose  crown  is 
won. 

The  composition  of  the  three  is  good,  having  the 
effect  of  a  broad  sunbeam  falling  slantwise  ;  and 
the  coloring  comprises  a  rich  succession  and  min- 
gling of  tones  and  semitones,  although  on  a  scale 
of  strict  selection. 

It  is  curious  that  while  the  first  form  is  so 
vague  and  dim,  she  seems  nevertheless  the  only 
real  one,  and  these  two  remaining  faces  but  the 


WORK.  227 

people  of  her  reverie  :  one,  perhaps  the  image  of 
life,  temptation  overcome  ;  the  other,  the  ardent 
dream  of  passion.  You  do  not  doubt  into  which 
arms  she  will  fall. 

You  are  apprised  also  of  something  foreign  in 
this  form,  something,  so  to  say,  supernatural. 
That  absorbed  smile  seems  to  part  and  float  across 
the  face,  these  colors  to  change  with  a  quick 
pulsation ;  you  fancy,  if  released  from  the  frame 
and  scales,  it  would  soar  up  and  away  ;  you  feel 
uncomfortably,  as  if  the  eyes  saw  you.  You  be- 
lieve the  artist  to  have  worked  beyond  his  will, 
and  to  have  wrought  that  of  which  he  was  not 
conscious,  a  power  above  his  control  inspiring  his 
pencil.  It  is  a  wonderful  picture,  and  opulent  in 
tints  that  would  cool  an  August  noon.  But  hav- 
ing glanced  away,  as  you  return  it  is  once  more 
enveloped  in  its  smoky  drapery,  and  only  by  a 
similar  process  would  you  again  discover  the  same 
objects. 

This  is  what  you  and  I  see,  —  little  enough  for 
a  man  to  waste  so  much  life  on ;  but  what  did  Sir 
Rohan  see?  A  mistier  shade,  a  whiter  film,  some- 
thing not  of  his  creation.  Vengeful  arrows  shot 
from  the  proud  pathos  of  those  eyes  ;  through  the 


228  SIR  ROHAN'S  GHOST. 

haze  he  had  wrought  over  them,  the  lips  quivered 
at  his  gaze  with  flecks  of  blue  flickering  flame  ; 
though  fixed,  it  hovered ;  though  inanimate,  it 
lived. 

"  Had  he  been  mad,  so  to  deceive  himself? 
Could  he  ever  escape  it  ?  Here  too  !  Here  too !  " 

But  Sir  Rohan  had  no  time  to  utter  such 
words,  or  frame  so  distinctly  their  thought.  The 
sense  alone  smote  him  ;  he  was  wrapped  again  in 
the  black  and  poisonous  cloud.  So  shortly  since 
so  buoyant,  so  hopeful,  —  what  had  ruined  him 
now  ? 

He  stood  tensely,  half  turned  away,  but  his  eyes 
by  irresistible  attraction  drawn  toward  and  return- 
ing that  gaze,  livid  and  agonized. 

Great  God !  the  Ghost  was  in  the  picture. 


XII. 

MORTMAIN. 

NOT  long  Sir  Rohan  remained  inactive.  With- 
out pausing  to  consider  consequences,  with- 
out hesitating  at  destroying  such  labor,  he  seized 
the  little  palette-knife  lying  near  and  dashed  it 
madly  through  the  canvas. 

A  sudden  shock,  like  a  stroke  of  lightning, 
smote  him;  then,  for  a  space,  the  very  silence 
seemed  to  sing  in  his  ears.  A  vacant  space,  into 
which  ebbed  a  tide  of  air,  a  rush,  a  tumult,  and 
with  all  her  pristine  strength  and  hate  the  Ghost 
flared  forth  and  enveloped  him. 

Voluntarily  she  had  entered  this  prison,  to  tor- 
ment him  truly,  but  yet  once  there  he  could  flee 
from  her ;  he  could  escape  from  her  and  he  had 
returned,  she  was  bound  and  he  had  freed  her. 

Again  the  Ghost  threw  her  net  over  him,  again 
dragged  him  captive  in  her  toils.  There  are  no 
20 


230  SIR  ROHAN'S   GHOST. 

means  to  depict,  were  it  desirable,  the  horror  and 
darkness  that  overwhelmed  him  anew ;  his  fetters 
galled  the  more  that  he  had  been  free.  But  in 
coping  with  material  objects  she  had  manifested  an 
incapacity ;  her  usual  cunning  seemed  to  have 
failed  her,  her  dreadful  art  served  her  only  for 
those  of  the  soul.  Wrapping  his  forehead  with 
her  clammy  breath,  she  stifled  him  ;  her  cold,  long 
fingers  were  upon  him,  her  hideous  embrace 
around  him,  that  shadow  of  her  hair  brushed  his 
cheek,  those  fierce  eyes  searched  him  through  and 
through.  Did  she  breathe,  he  wondered ;  did  those 
glances  gloom  and  flash  with  the  current  in  her 
veins ;  was  that  heart  palpitant  above  him  ?  Then, 
laughing  despairingly  at  his  absurdity,  he  saw  that 
by  her  sympathy  with  the  whole  free  universe  its 
forces  were  kept  in  ebb  and  flow  through  her  ex- 
istence, and  that  thus  drawing  after  her  in  infran- 
gible connection  a  strength  that  was  almost  om- 
nipotent, she  acquired  a  personal  determination, 
a  deceitful  limitation  and  power  infinitely  beyond 
that  to  be  dreamed  of  from  any  mere  effort  of 
breath  or  blood.  Now  the  air  sobbed  away  from 
him,  now  poured  back  echoing  her  horrid  laugh. 
All  voluntary  motion  left  him;  the  Ghost  moved 


MORTMAIN.  231 

him  hither  and  thither  at  her  will.  Each  moment 
became  a  cycle  filled  with  what  unutterable  pain  ! 
Like  a  pricked  bubble  all  his  dreams  fell  dead  to 
the  bottom  of  his  heart,  and  numberless  hopes 
escaped  and  swam  in  her  lurid  light,  a  whole 
heaven  of  possibilities  and  sorrows  as  they  broke. 
The  morning  crawled  away,  and  left  him  yet  in 
her  vindictive  hands.  Noon  passed ;  day ;  even- 
ing drew  near.  He  hoped  some  human  being 
might  enter  and  perhaps  dissolve  the  charm ;  but 
no  one  came,  till  dusk  brought  the  housekeeper. 
He  wanted  nothing,  she  heard  him  say ;  he  was 
not  ill,  she  could  do  nothing  for  him.  He  longed 
to  ask  her  to  remain ;  the  words  were  on  his  lips, 
he  thought  them  uttered ;  but  the  Ghost  snatched 
them  off  as  they  rose,  and  tore  them  to  shreds  of 
inarticulate  sound,  for  Mrs.  Redruth  closed  the 
door  behind  her,  and  again  he  was  alone  with  the 
Ghost.  Now  once  more  she  stretched  vividly  be- 
fore his  aching  eyes  the  scenes  of  his  youth,  and 
contrasted  them  with  some  dim  sketch  of  Miriam 
pallid,  haggard,  miry ;  and  once  more  shook  the 
web  of  fire  between  them.  Now  she  laid  her  icy 
cheek  on  his,  peered  askance  with  her  chatoyant 
eyes  close  beside  his  own,  stained  his  lips  in  her 


232  SIR  ROHAN'S  GHOST. 

filthy  kisses,  and  then  retreating  with  grimace  and 
flounce,  leered  at  him  from  behind  a  screen  of 
gathering  darkness,  or  flowed  forth  brandishing 
keener  spears  than  hitherto,  before  which  he  cow- 
ered and  hid  his  face  only  to  be  drawn  up  again 
and  forced  to  encounter  the  terrible  dualism.  She 
heaped  upon  him  all  the  cumulative  force  of  her 
hibernation.  Sleep  forsook  him;  night  crowded 
herself  with  other  Essences  ready,  it  seemed,  to 
assume  shape  at  the  Ghost's  command.  Thought 
refused  to  yield  him  comfort ;  he  was  capable  only 
of  torturing  sensation.  Morning  came  at  last, 
and  the  unwearied  Ghost  sung  its  reveille,  but 
never  left  him.  If  he  traversed  the  house  from 
room  to  room,  still  she  sailed  by  his  side,  opening 
the  doors  before  them  by  the  power  of  her  will ;  or 
if  in  some  long  passage  he  fancied  himself  alone 
an  instant,  she  burst  in  countless  reduplications 
from  every  panel,  and  swept  on  with  her  myriads 
to  environ  him.  Burying  himself  in  the  forest,  all 
the  air  murmured  of  her ;  the  leaves  of  the  birch 
shivered  with  electric,  luminous  points,  the  needles 
of  the  pines  whispered  her  messages.  Nature, 
who  brings  the  sick  wild  beasts  to  medicinal 
browse,  who  heals  the  gashes  of  her  trees  with 


MORTMAIN.  233 

slow  sweat  of  crystal  tear  and  fragrant  gum,  had 
no  remedy  for  this  man  who  had  wounded  her. 
Misery  had  beset  him;  not  dead,  he  suffered 
hell. 

Now  and  then,  Sir  Rohan  indulged  himself  in  a 
trifle  of  extraordinary  logic. 

It  is  impossible  to  imagine  a  new  color ;  beyond 
the  three  primary  ones  and  their  modifications, 
the  imagination  cannot  go ;  the  conception  of  an- 
other, original  and  creative,  exceeds  mortal  capa- 
bility. But  one  day  the  Ghost  appeared  to  him 
invested  in  robes  of  a  new  color.  She  floated 
finely  before  him,  and  trailed  their  lengthening 
splendor  after  her.  For  a  moment  he  stood 
amazed  ;  then  entering  his  forsaken  painting-room, 
opened  chests  and  drawers,  and  proceeded  to  in- 
vestigate the  sources  of  this  mystery.  The  Ghost 
followed  him,  displaying  the  full  field  of  color  with 
a  mocking  apery  of  vanity,  holding  it  here  for 
a  light,  dropping  it  there  for  a  shade.  But  he 
searched  vainly  for  any  tint  owning  an  affinity 
with  it,  following  it  into  shade,  or  ruling  it ;  nor 
could  he  produce  it  by  any  artful  mingling  of 
prime  or  tertiary.  Cinnabar,  nor  realgar,  nor  any 
brilliant  madder,  overpowered  it ;  mort  d'ore  was 

20* 


234 


in  no  wise  akin  to  it ;  no  pigment  could  catch  its 
life,  alien  to  them  all,  a  monarch  of  other  chro- 
matics than  we  possess.  He  put  the  things  aside, 
and  still  stood  gazing  on  the  strange  hue  which 
the  Ghost  so  accommodatingly  paraded.  It  oc- 
curred to  him  that  if  he  could  only  prove  the  color 
to  be  an  optical  delusion,  he  might  also  infer  that 
the  Ghost  herself  was  no  more,  on  this  occasion ; 
and  if  on  this,  why  not  on  others  ?  But  while 
meditating,  he  could  not  bring  himself  to  believe 
in  a  power  of  imagining  anything  which  might 
not  exist.  If  the  elements  of  an  object's  construc- 
tion are  in  the  mind,  he  said,  they  must  also  be  in 
the  world  ;  and  thus  even  had  he  imagined  this 
color,  it  might  exist,  and  his  Ghost  then  as  well. 
But  on  the  other  hand,  was  he  able  to  imagine  it  ? 
Could  his  will  reach  up  into  the  heavens,  and 
pluck  this  secret  from  God  ?  As  well  create  an- 
other sense.  No  ;  he  must  needs  confess  his  weak- 
ness there.  The  color  was  before  him,  —  no  illu- 
sion ;  —  he  saw  it,  he  had  proved  it  new,  he  could 
not  doubt  it,  and  the  Ghost  must  be  as  real.  As 
this  conclusion  forced  itself  upon  him,  the  novel 
drapery  forsook  the  Ghost,  and  with  her  old  laugh 
she  soared  aloft,  swept  round  the  easel,  and  de- 


MORTMAIN.  235 

scending  beside  him,  lay  recumbent  on  the  air, 
with  one  visionary  hand  upon  his  shoulder.  But 
thin  and  immaterial  as  was  the  airy  hand,  its 
weight  was  that  of  a  mountain. 

He  had  not  dared  use  his  pencils  before  this 
day  ;  he  did  not  dare  again  ;  the  Ghost  had 
usurped  his  province ;  but  he  felt  now  that  if  he 
might,  his  brain  in  this  great  heat  would  strike 
off  glowing  thoughts,  to  circle,  like  fresh  planets, 
in  an  immortality  of  their  own. 

Anon  the  Ghost  took  a  quieter  mood,  and  hung 
beside  him  only  a  sorrowful  shadow.  Then  the 
memory  of  Miriam  came  and  poured  soft  balsams 
on  his  wounds ;  —  he  caught  it,  held  it  firmly, 
turned  it  in  his  mind,  and  clung  to  it  tenaciously. 
But  at  the  moment,  the  Ghost  sprang  up  again, 
redoubling  all  her  energies,  summoning  all  her 
alien  forces,  and  every  day  increasing  her  threat- 
enings  as  he  refused  to  resign  it,  —  yet  holding  her 
estates  by  mortmain. 

It  became  a  question  with  him  if  there  might  be 
no  scheme  to  evade  her,  if  flight  would  free  him, 
or  if  other  chains  might  be  forged  for  her ;  —  a 
question,  howbeit,  that  soon  answered  itself.  Issu- 
ing one  morning  from  a  closet  that  had  been  par- 


236  SIR  ROHAN'S  GHOST. 

titioned  from  his  painting-room,  he  shut  the  door 
hastily,  and  thought,  with  the  exultation  of  Mace- 
don  on  conquering  new  worlds,  that  he  had  shut 
the  Ghost  within.  He  said  with  a  chuckle  that  he 
had  been  too  quick  for  her  ;  perhaps  she  humored 
the  supposition,  for  all  that  day  he  enjoyed  a  quiet 
that  was  rare.  A  quiet  so  far  as  she  was  con- 
cerned ;  but  after  a  little,  he  began  to  worry  him- 
self with  conjectures,  where  could  she  be,  and 
what  could  she  be  doing  ?  At  last,  a  curiosity  not 
to  be  curbed  possessed  him.  There  was  a  nail  in 
the  partition  at  some  height,  and  if  it  were  re- 
moved he  thought  likely  he  could  discover.  The 
Ghost  could  not  be  omniscient.  Accordingly,  hav- 
ing darkened  his  room  that  no  light  might  enter 
the  closet  through  the  aperture,  —  a  thing  easily 
avoidable,  especially  as  the  other  owned  a  window, 
—  he  noiselessly  drew  the  nail,  and  bringing  some 
steps,  cautiously  mounted  them  and  applied  his 
eye  to  the  hole.  At  first  he  saw  nothing;  then 
raising  his  eye  he  rubbed  it  vigorously,  and  again 
looked.  What  did  he  see  ?  Only  another  eye  at 
the  opposite  side,  scanning  him  as  he  scanned  it, 
scintillating  with  malicious  sparks,  and  laughing 
at  him  in  keen  mockery  and  devilish  cunning. 


MORTMAIN.  237 

There  was  no  deceit  for  the  Ghost,  no  more  pris- 
ons of  his  making ;  for  him  she  was,  he  found, 
omniscient  and  omnipotent.  When  she  had  seen 
him  escaping  her  by  devotion  to  his  easel,  she  had 
entered  his  work  and  poisoned  his  art ;  but  she 
was  not  one  on  whom  he  could  revenge  himself. 

Soon,  not  alone  she  came,  but  swept  before  his 
vision  day  and  night  with  a  train  of  other  ghosts, 
ah1  separate,  all  glaring,  all  silent.  They  spoke  no 
word,  but  used  only  that  dreadful  language  of  the 
ghosts,  —  the  eye,  the  wild  gesture,  the  tempest- 
uous rush,  the  sigh.  From  the  mantling  pools  of 
the  heath  at  noon  they  gleamed  like  the  faces  of 
corpses ;  wading  out  in  the  surf  at  night,  they 
broke  to  view  in  every  crest ;  he  never,  never  was 
alone  again. 

Sir  Rohan  had  at  first  congratulated  himself 
that  he  would  no  longer  be  with  his  single  Ghost, 
but  a  short  time  taught  him  the  difference  was 
truly  that  between  one  sword  and  twenty.  Their 
silence,  too,  exasperated  him ;  he  longed  for  some 
thundering  denunciation,  some  taunt,  some  doom. 
Anything  but  these  tacit  threats,  these  multiplied 
stings.  The  eternal  wordlessness,  solely,  was  fren- 
zying.  He  wandered  about  without  aim  or  knowl- 


238  SIB  BOHAN'S  GHOST. 

/ 

edge,  frequently  seeing  nothing,  but  hearing  the 
perpetual  rustle  of  unseen  movements,  as  one 
hears  the  murmur  of  a  conch.  But  was  he  not 
indeed  laying  his  ear  upon  a  vaster  hollow,  and 
striving  to  see,  painted  on  the  gulfs  beyond  his 
own  identity,  a  face,  the  reflex  perhaps  of  his 
imaginings  ?  He  had  walked  for  hours,  at  one 
time,  beholding  no  individual  of  these  milliards, 
and  hearing  only  their  mysterious  susurrus ;  he 
had  endured  it  in  a  corresponding  silence. 

"  Speak  !  "  he  cried  at  last,  and  turning,  found 
himself  sitting  on  a  tombstone  in  the  lee  of  the 
little  church  Miriam  had  described,  —  the  three 
graves,  the  long  slope,  and  the  sea,  behind ;  and 
before,  —  between  the  gap  of  the  cliffs  reddening 
with  morning,  —  the  cross-roads,  and  a  sunrise 
boiling  wildly  athwart  low  inland  plains.  One 
region  of  the  heavens  was  wrapped  in  the  pomp  of 
crimson  brightening  vapor  that,  curling  and  sail- 
ing higher,  put  up  a  golden  lip  to  take  the  morn- 
ing star ;  through  it  broad  rays  blanched  the 
zenith  ;  in  it  the  thin  moon,  waning  her  last  quar- 
ter, slowly  and  more  slowly  dissolved  away.  At 
his  demand,  deadlier  stillness  seemed  to  hold  the 
air ;  but  as  if  they  had  always  been  there,  he  was 


MORTMAIN.  239 

aware,  on  looking  again,  of  a  phalanx  of  motion- 
less faces  clear  with  metallic  brightness,  turned, 
not  at  him,  but  toward  the  disc  of  the  sun.  Before 
Sir  Rohan  might  have  suffered  his  glance  to  follow 
theirs,  something  shot  across  and  led  it  on  till 
resting  there.  It  was  the  tiny  blade  of  a  penknife 
held  in  long  slender  fingers,  but  increasing  and 
swelling  as  it  withdrew,  —  and  when  it  lay  on  the 
shining  disc,  large  and  flexible  as  a  Damascus 
blade.  A  moment  it  remained  quiescent,  then 
waving  like  a  zostera  gently  from  side  to  side  with 
rippling  undulations,  it  was  grasped  more  ner- 
vously, and,  as  if  it  were  a  shuttle,  tossed  to  and 
fro,  bending,  slashing,  twisting,  rising,  falling,  all 
at  once,  like  not  one,  but  a  hundred  swords,  and 
with  a  rapidity  that  bathed  the  controlling  fingers 
in  a  cloud.  Now,  like  the  swift  wings  of  birds 
flashing  in  the  prime,  it  darted  darkly  across  the 
light,  singing  as  it  went ;  and  now,  like  a  myriad 
fish  in  a  sea  of  aerial  brilliance,  it  swam  with 
curves  and  whirls,  swaying  at  graceful  pleasure. 
But  that  which  always  gave  distinctness  to  the 
object,  and  brought  it  back  to  its  original  purport, 
was  a  stain  of  brown  rust  upon  the  edge,  —  a 
stain  that  had  been  blood,  —  the  coagulation  of  a 


240  SIR  ROHAN'S  GHOST. 

life.  It  was  the  one  returning  point,  that  arrested 
its  swiftest  motion,  that  caught  it  from  the  most 
fantastic  transformation,  and  shook  it  terribly  be- 
fore him.  By  a  peculiar  process,  Sir  Rohan  could 
not  resist  the  belief  that  the  stain  was  not  so  much 
on  the  knife  as  on  his  own  soul ;  that  it  was  that  in 
truth  drawn  and  played  with  by  those  ghostly  fin- 
gers, black  against  the  radiance  of  dawn.  In  a 
kind  of  trance,  he  stared  at  the  swift  glancing  of 
the  blade,  till  suddenly  it  leaped  toward  him  from 
the  sun,  like  an  arrow,  but  fell  short  of  its  mark 
and  stuck  upright  and  quivering  in  the  ground ; 
while  that  old  touch,  like  compressed  wind  or  a 
breath  from  a  rarer  atmosphere,  circled  his  wrist 
again,  —  spiritual,  chill,  and  melting  like  snow. 

When  he  looked  up  again,  the  morning  was  ad- 
vanced, the  faces  faded,  and  the  only  object  before 
him  was  an  upright  stake  driven  through  the  heart 
of  the  suicide  who  had  been  buried  at  the  junction 
of  the  four  cross  roads.  It  was  the  speech  he  had 
demanded  of  the  Ghost  and  her  Legion. 

When  Sir  Rohan  trusted  himself  to  look  upon 
his  life,  he  saw  it  as  one  who  has  ascended  an 
apparently  extinct  volcano.  The  old  lava-streams 
are  gay  with  wild-flowers  that  have  bedded  their 


MORTMAIN.  241 

roots  among  them ;  the  blackened  channels  over- 
grown with  vines ;  and  bending  down  the  savage 
rifts  whose  deserted  margins  are  green  with  moss, 
nothing  but  everlasting  quiet  and  sombre  shadow 
meet  the  eye.  Suddenly,  the  earth  trembles,  thick 
vapors,  rising,  assume  wild  shapes  and  darken  the 
lift ;  sulphureous  flames  follow  in  broad  columns  ; 
the  old  craters  yawn  and  rock  the  hills,  and  new 
mouths  belch  forth  fiery  rivers ;  while  all  the  de- 
mons and  spirits  of  fire,  who  have  slept  so  long  in 
their  caverns,  start  into  activity,  and  forward  the 
work  with  diabolic  glee.  And  yet  as  often  Sir 
Rohan  wondered  if  he  were  not  as  responsible  for 
these  fierce  imps  that  haunted  him,  as  the  Ghost ; 
and  such  gleams  of  recognition  broke  upon  him, 
that  he  half  fancied  them  the  creations  of  evil 
thought,  or  the  informing  life  of  all  his  vicious 
deeds,  now  first  surrounded  with  shape. 

He  climbed  among  the  gables  of  the  old  house, 
ivy  above,  within,  beneath  his  nook  ;  owls  staring 
at  him  with  great  horny  moons  ;  bats  wheeling 
around  him ;  but  there  too  they  came.  Unim- 
agined  revolting  phantasms  roaming  the  dark  fir- 
mament, travelling  the  winds,  dropping  on  long 
threads  and  swinging  before  him ;  silent  all,  but 

21  P 


242  SIR  ROHAN'S  GHOST. 

restless,  capricious,  malevolent.  Abolishing  dis- 
tance till  they  showed  him  a  false  Miriam  in  Arun- 
del's  arms,  or  haled  her  by  the  hair  across  his  sight, 
dead  and  freshly  bleeding ;  or  while  the  white  bush 
at  the  foot  of  the  lawn  glowed  into  the  shape 
of  the  Ghost,  surrounding  it  with  wreaths  and 
arabesques  of  head  and  limb  and  mop  and  mow, 
horns,  wings,  tusks,  till  rising  in  a  cloud,  the 
Ghost  at  their  head,  they  charged  valiantly  and 
drove  him  from  the  lair  that  seemed  instinct  with 
life  and  stinging  in  every  spray,  still  pursuing,  as 
he  fled,  with  fresh  dismays. 

Strange  to  say,  the  most  frequent  of  all  these 
extramundane  faces  was  one  resembling  Arundel's, 
pale  and  shuddering  as  when  taking  aim  at  St. 
Denys. 

He  walked  mile  after  mile  on  the  endless  moors 
by  night,  and  with  the  empty  shell  of  the  sky 
above,  cheated  himself  into  a  whim  of  freedom, 
till  the  momentary  transport  checked  his  pace,  and 
the  rising  moon  confronted  him.  It  cast  long 
shadows  from  the  margin  of  the  moor  toward 
him,  it  cast  also  his  own  shadow  behind  him  ;  what 
then  cast  that  same  shadow,  pale  and  varying,  in 
the  path  before  him  ?  Turning  with  frightened 


MORTMAIN.  243 

eyes,  again  his  Ghost  in  her  dim  red  aspect  of 
triumph  was  at  his  shoulder,  and  each  time  the 
shock  was  no  less  intense. 

In  the  excruciating  pains  given  by  the  noxious 
vapors  creeping  treacherously  into  his  bones  dur- 
ing these  nightly  wanderings  he  hoped  that  he 
might  merge  his  mental  distress  ;  but  as  if  his  soul 
were  fed  by  corresponding  pulses,  every  physical 
pang  merely  aggravated  the  wild  throbs  of  anguish 
there. 

By  day  again,  let  him  go  where  he  would,  a 
blinding  heat  and  light  crowned  and  dazed  him, 
refulgent  atoms  of  lightning  flitted  through  his 
vision  in  clouds,  and  every  actual  object  wavered 
as  when  seen  through  a  veil  of  fervid  air.  He 
felt  it  impossible  to  give  any  material  its  relative 
value.  ->••  '  r  • 

He  never  looked  in  a  glass  now,  for  there  the 
Ghost  was  most  clearly  to  be  found,  as  if  it  needed 
the  substanceless  depth  of  the  mirror  to  paint  this 
essence  and  evolve  her  from  her  shadowy  sphere. 
Yet  at  horrid  times  she  burned  away  the  awful 
nimbus  that  surrounded  her  like  a  personal  at- 
mosphere and  separated  them  as  the  glass  seems 
to  separate  you  from  your  reflection,  —  but  which 


244  SIR  ROHAN'S  GHOST. 

was,  indeed,  the  impassable  barrier  of  worlds,  that 
interposed  between  her  and  corporeal  things  infi- 
nitely more  effectually  than  rushing  leagues  of 
tempestuous  sea-foam  or  ranges  of  heaven-kissing 
hills,  —  burned  this  veil  away  with  a  subtile  inter- 
penetration  of  light,  and  stepped  from  her  sphere 
to  the  shore  of  his,  or  rapt  him  into  the  bosom  of 
that,  till  his  flesh  lay  chiller  than  snow  upon  his 
bones,  heavier  and  more  lifeless  than  lead. 

Not  infrequently  a  great  horror  and  darkness 
fell  upon  him,  wrapping  him  completely  from  all 
outer  objects ;  and  when,  after  a  while,  it  with- 
drew and  he  became  conscious  of  his  Ghost,  he  de- 
manded if  she  were  not  the  image  of  that  thrown 
out  bodily,  more  especially  as  his  mind  was  of  the 
class  prone  to  individualize  and  assign  every  ideal 
thing  its  equivalent  of  personality. 

Hardest  of  all  to  bear  was  the  hopelessness  of 
release,  the  fact  of  her  perpetuity,  the  knowledge 
that  it  was  she,  and  that  she  was  always  there. 
If  by  any  chance  tired  habit  snatched  him  into 
sleep  awhile,  it  was  only  to  wake  pricked  through 
the  eyeballs,  and  meet  the  baleful  face  hanging 
within  an  inch  of  his  own.  The  breath  of  life 
itself  had  now  become  fear  to  Sir  Rohan  ;  apathy 


MORTMAIN.  245 

kindled  to  anger,  and  one  trepidation  built  itself 
upon  another.  A  month  passed,  and  still  the 
Ghost  was  his  second  self,  and  still  as  he  turned 
to  the  thought  of  Miriam  she  called  her  awful 
legions  to  destroy  it. 

A  perpetual  distress  of  this  period  was  the  total 
loss  of  all  privacy.  His  mind,  like  some  fair  ca- 
thedral nave  with  pillared  aisles  withdrawing  to 
lofty  twilight,  rich  in  antiquity,  experience,  the 
beauty  of  genius  and  aspiration,  instead  of  being 
swept  and  garnished  by  pious  and  orderly  hands, 
and  with  closed  portals  repeating  the  quiet  footfall 
of  silent  worshippers,  was  set  open  to  the  gaping 
view  of  all  passers,  thronged  at  the  vestibules  with 
hosts  of  curious  intruders,  clanging  to  the  fierce 
tread  of  haughty  scoffers.  Rude  iconoclasts  shiv- 
ered the  shrines,  tore  up  the  mosaics,  splintered 
the  tracery  that  crusted  mullion  and  arch  like  the 
moss  of  centuries ;  while  the  air  that  had  wafted 
only  blue-rolling  incense,  harmony,  and  prayer, 
was  now  scattered  by  explosive  laughter,  and 
silence  fled  shuddering  to  far  monastic  cloisters, 
still  to  be  caught  and  destroyed  by  the  ribald  pro- 
fanity that  chased  it. 

There  are  few  of  us,  even  the  most  candid,  that 


246  SIR  ROHAN'S  GHOST. 

do  not  keep  some  inner  niche,  where  we  retire 
alone  with  our  chosen  oracle,  our  single  memory, 
or  our  hidden  hope,  —  but  this  was  denied  to  Sir 
Rohan ;  and  since  so  few  hold  their  thoughts  to  the 
gaze  of  a  friend,  who  would  choose  an  enemy  for 
their  revelator,  and  that  one  whose  enmity  was  to 
be  measured,  if  at  all,  by  the  strength  of  a  former 
love  !  Yet  at  such  mercy  he  lay.  Again,  though 
we  commonly  shrink  from  investigation  of  our  least 
wish,  and  do  not  desire  intrusion  on  our  sorrow, 
the  delicate  and  fastidious  hold  their  joys  in  a  far 
greater  degree  sacred  to  themselves,  and  scarcely 
in  their  confessions  to  God  pray  all  that  is  in  their 
hearts.  How,  then,  could  they  bear  the  prying- 
search  of  an  indifferent  eye,  and  what  desecration 
would  their  holy  'of  holies  meet  at  such  insolent 
touch  as  this  man  experienced ! 

One  of  the  most  fearful  circumstances  with 
which  the  popular  idea  has  chosen  to  invest  the 
Day  of  Judgment  is  that  on  that  day  all  secrets 
shall  be  revealed ;  but  this  Sir  Rohan  suffered 
instantly,  already.  His  thoughts  were  known  in 
their  conception ;  there  was  no  ward  in  his  heart 
of  which  the  Ghost  had  not  the  freedom,  every 
nerve  of  pain  or  pleasure  quivered  at  her  pres- 


MORTMAIN.  247 

ence,  she  exposed  the  flimsy  texture  of  every 
dream,  every  fancy  she  scanned,  every  desire  she 
held  up  and  shook  derisively.  And  if  such  scru- 
tiny be  painful  from  those  who,  by  the  kindred  of 
a  race,  share  our  frailties  and  aims,  how  must  it 
exceed  itself  from  beings  who  have  not  one  attri- 
bute in  Common  with  us,  who  do  not  even  breathe 
our  air,  and  own  not  a  single  human  sympa- 
thy ?  Whether  the  allies  of  the  Ghost  followed  her 
insulting  march,  or  she  communicated  with  them 
without  by  some  more  than  electric  celerity,  Sir 
Rohan  could  hardly  discriminate,  or  if  their  intel- 
ligent torture  would  be  keener  than  that  effected 
by  unwitting  malice.  It  was  enough  to  feel  all 
hidden  things  brought  to  light,  each  recess  rifled, 
all  sanctity  violated,  and  his  soul  alive  and  reso- 
nant with  foreign  and  malign  manoeuvres. 

Contemplation  of  any  object  is  apt  to  impart  to 
ourselves  a  tinge  of  that  object's  archeus.  Thus  I 
should  not  care  to  have,  too  often,  the  inspection 
of  an  elephantiasis,  amaurosis,  or  leprosy,  lest  the 
drop  serene  should  be  grafted  on  the  mind's  eye, 
or  a  more  dangerous  mental  leprosy  be  induced ; 
and  thus  Sir  Rohan,  who  at  first  may  have  seen  his 
Ghost  simply  because  he  knew  she  was  to  be  seen, 


248  SIB  ROHAN'S  GHOST. 

at  last  felt  himself  in  jeopardy  of  partaking  her 
nature.  But  hideous  as  this  nature  was,  had  he 
not  made  it  so? 

Previously  he  had  dreaded  death,  and  driven  all 
his  thoughts  from  it ;  he  had  feared,  indeed,  worse 
than  he  was  suffering  ;  feared  too,  that  he  should 
become  of  like  substance,  part  and  parcel  of  his 
Ghost,  able  to  endure  finer  inflictions.  But  if 
he  too  had  laid  aside  the  flesh,  would  not  some 
ghostly  poniard  be  his  ?  No,  no,  he  interpreted 
her  look,  anew ;  he  had  had  his  turn.  At  least 
some  foil  for  defence,  he  persisted,  then  it  would  be 
impossible  for  her  to  bring  him  such  pain  as  now ; 
and  truly  he  desired  this  release.  But  whom 
should  he  ask  ?  He  dared  not  take  it,  and  to 
those  who  demand  him  Death  never  comes.  Once, 
in  the  evening,  as  he  crossed  the  dark  drawing- 
room,  the  light  from  the  hall  streamed  in  at  the 
open  door  and  lay  upon  the  carpet ;  the  long 
mirror,  nearly  opposite,  caught  this  light  and  shed 
a  brighter  air  round  itself,  and  a  parallelogram  of 
fainter  clearness  on  the  floor  beside  the  other.  As 
Sir  Rohan  entered,  his  own  shadow  fell  in  the 
first,  and  he  had  seen  the  image  of  that  shadow 
dimly  in  the  glass,  together  with  the  white  misti- 


MORTMAIN.  249 

ness  that,  swaying  at  every  breath  of  air,  still  un- 
falteringly served  him ;  and  now  returning,  before 
he  reached  the  mirror,  he  saw  again  his  own  ap- 
proaching shadow,  with  the  Ghost's,  not  in  the 
glass,  but  thrown  from  its  bosom  upon  the  floor. 
Uncertain  enough,  surely,  was  the  double  reflex  of 
his  material  form ;  but  how  utterly  impalpable, 
ethereal,  and  evanescent,  this  accompanying  film ! 
It  was  as  if  the  freak  of  light  had  stripped  her  of 
the  medium  in  which  she  clothed  herself  for  visi- 
bility, so  that  naked  to  the  core,  her  true  sub- 
stance lay  in  that  representation  hovering  over  the 
carpet ;  so  that  he  saw,  not  her  mere  refinement, 
but  the  reflection  of  the  reflection  of  the  shadow  of 
a  shadow.  He  no  longer  desired  Death  to  endue 
him  with  a  similar  ghastliness,  and  abandoned  all 
thoughts  of  conquering  the  Ghost  by  becoming  of 
like  stuff.  The  intangibility  and  nothingness  were 
awful.  He  felt  that  she  would  embrace  him  more 
completely  were  he  free  from  the  flesh ;  that  in  the 
body,  with  all  its  infirmities  and  susceptibilities, 
lay  his  peace  or  his  salvation.  He  was  like  those 
who,  having  bargained  with  the  fiend  for  the  next 
world,  fix  themselves  resolutely  on  the  swinging 
blossom  of  this,  and  pierce  it  for  its  lingering  drop 


250  SIR  ROHAN'S  GHOST. 

of  bitter  honey.  He  half  fancied  that  since  Na- 
ture had  made  one  such  exception  for  him,  in  the 
case  of  his  Ghost,  she  might  also  make  another, 
and  decree  that  he  should  never  die. 

But  time  fleeting,  the  fitful  darts  of  pain  -be- 
came the  heavy  pressure  of  aching.  Again  his 
fancy  flew  to  Miriam. 

He  forgot  that  the  Ghost  had  been  growing 
feebler  before  she  came.  Faint  enough,  he  said, 
had  been  that  influence  in  her  presence ;  had  she 
not  finally  banished  it  all  ?  And  he  suddenly  be- 
lieved it  possible  that  having  encountered  the  vig- 
orous nature  of  this  joyous  girl,  the  grave-soiled 
weapons  of  the  other  had  been  found  of  no  avail. 
He  had  resolved  for  Miriam's  sake,  not  to  involve 
her  in  his  own  sphere  of  pain.  But  had  she  been 
miserable  while  here  ?  In  saving  him  had  she  lost 
herself?  Doubtless  she  was  happy  now:  would  she 
be  less  so  when  vanquishing,  by  her  calm  virtue 
and  that  voice  like  a  sance-bell,  these  ghouls  and 
vampires  that  preyed  upon  him  ? 

There  are  many  who  have  the  magnanimity  to 
resign  that  which  costs  others  too  precious  a  price ; 
few  who  have  the  courage  to  think,  as  Sir  Rohan 
did,  of  the  greater  price  of  their  accepted  resigna- 


MORTMAIN.  251 

tion,  to  weigh  with  careful  poise  their  benefit  and 
the  other's  loss. 

Not  immediately  did  Sir  Rohan  collect  his  argu- 
ment; he  had  chance  in  the  ceaseless  operations 
of  his  foe  for  thought  but  in  jets ;  yet  finally  the 
one  conclusion  held  him,  —  he  would  seek  Miriam, 
he  would  never  return  without  her. 

Great  need  was  there  now  for  the  Ghost  to 
thrust  on  her  blows  with  violence,  to  exert  all  her 
sovereignty,  and  sway  her  sceptre  over  the  farthest 
of  her  winged  auxiliaries,  investing  them  with  a 
new  power ;  and  when  she  resorted  to  the  boldest 
of  her  expedients,  the  danger  must  have  been  im- 
minent. She  had  ruled  a  passive  victim,  now  it 
was  an  enemy  resisting  her.  Out  of  his  sudden 
hope  night  shut  down  upon  Sir  Rohan.  These 
wings  blackened  the  sky.  That  was  a  fierce  time 
of  joy  to  the  Ghost,  of  agony  to  Mm.  He  yielded 
to  it  like  one  in  the  centre  of  a  hostile  battalion, 
crushed,  torn,  and  bleeding.  You,  with  your 
healthy  organization,  laugh  at  it.  To  him,  dis- 
eased, sensitive,  and  replete  with  consciousness, 
swords  could  not  have  been  sharper ;  and  not  the 
least  piercing  thorn  was  that  his  own  hand  had 
loosened  the  horror,  as  the  fisherman  opened  the 
jar  for  the  Genius. 


252  SIR  ROHAN'S  GHOST. 

I  have  asked  myself  if  this  man  were  mad. 
But  when,  if  he  were,  the  madness  became  infec- 
tious, when  these  phantoms  became  apparent  to 
others,  I  am  forced  to  deny  him  that  relief. 

For  now  the  servants  knew  of  his  approach  be- 
fore they  heard  a  footfall.  If  they  met  him  at 
dusk,  they  averred  his  eyes  were  burning  coals ;  if 
at  noon,  they  unconsciously  made  way  for  two. 
Enormous  shadows,  they  said,  danced  as  though 
one  tossed  flambeaux  in  his  path.  The  maids  fled 
like  frightened  doves  among  themselves,  and  told 
with  sharp  whispers  of  the  cloud  in  which  their 
fancies  girt  him,  as  if  it  held  some  half-guessed 
monster  to  crouch  above  as  he  came  down  the 
stairs,  some  form  to  sweep  on  either  side,  some 
dimmest  semblance  of  a  weeping  woman  always  to 
be  seen  floating  before  his  eyes :  eyes  like  a  sleep- 
walker, they  said,  though  he  so  often  raising  his 
hand  to  brush  it  away ;  eyes  wide  with  confusion, 
oppression,  and  fright.  He  looked,  they  said,  as 
if  he  walked  towards  hell,  and  its  shooting  flames 
already  threw  their  expectant  shadows  across  his 
lurid  visage.  His  old  and  gentle  condescension, 
his  suffering,  and  kindly  patience,  availed  no  jot  in 
the  regard  of  these  people,  who  beheld  in  him  the 


MORTMAIN.  253 

victim  of  unknown,  and  thence  the  more  terrific 
agencies.  Redruth  also,  they  declared,  saw  such 
images,  though  he  said  nothing,  and  one,  indeed, 
was  always  whispering  by  his  ear. 

But  Redruth  soon  was  not  alone.  These  fan- 
tastic creations  filled  the  house,  darted  from  every 
closet,  lurked  in  every  corner,  chased  them  till 
their  haunted  work  lay  unperformed  and  they 
dared  not  leave  one  another.  Could  I  ascribe  all 
this  to  that  power  in  Sir  Rohan  of  stamping  his 
own  sensations  on  the  nerves  of  others? 

Fearful  legends  now  were  rife  in  the  place  ;  the 
story  of  Fanchon  was  bandied  about  with  addi- 
tions, and  it  was  even  circulated  that  some  ancient 
Knight  of  the  Belvideres  had  agreed  upon  a  day 
with  the  Powers  of  darkness  wherein  the  whole 
house  should  fall  with  a  crash,  and  the  dust  of  its 
ruin  choke  the  welkin ;  this  day  they  believed  to 
be  near,  and  with  the  superstition  of  their  class 
they  rose  to  meet  it. 

In  people  of  no  high  grade  of  intellect,  we  often 
find  a  material  perception,  so  to  speak,  a  species  of 
instinct,  that  serves  them  in  these  emergencies ; 
and  thus  they  may  have  felt  rather  than  seen 
what  they  described,  and  receiving  impressions  so 

22 


254  SIR  ROHAN'S  GHOST. 

more  strongly  through  the  senses,  these  emotions 
may  have  acted  upon  them  in  that  direction,  and 
taught  them  to  appreciate  their  master's  condition 
more  quickly  than  by  other  means. 

Of  all  this  Sir  Rohan  was  aware.  He  was  worn, 
thin,  exhausted,  and  racked  with  perpetual  pain. 
But  the  hour  his  determination  was  fully  made,  he 
descended  heedless,  a  moment,  of  the  crew  that 
followed.  His  head  throbbed,  his  cheeks  flushed, 
his  eyes  burned  with  the  fire  in  his  veins  ;  a  fever 
boiled  his  blood  ;  he  ordered  his  horse  in  a  rage, 
and  mounting,  dashed  down  the  lawn  with  the 
Ghost,  and  turned  into  the  path  through  the  park 
that  led  to  the  highway  traversing  the  county  on 
his  road  to  Kent. 

At  hurried  instants  when  this  whirlwind  of 
flame  broke  and  flashed  away  from  him,  his 
thoughts  vaulted  buoyantly,  and  travelled  along 
the  track  of  memory,  drawn  by  unseen  but  invin- 
cible chains,  over  the  waste  of  years,  to  the  pleas- 
urable scenes  of  youth  ;  so  that  he  remembered 
the  beauty  and  joy  of  that  phase,  the  hot  passion, 
the  indifference,  the  regret,  till  out  of  them  leaped 
a  wild  hasty  deed  like  a  crease  from  its  sheath, 
and  then  Remorse  chased  him ;  Remorse  that 


MORTMAIN.  255 

begat  a  feverish  longing  for  the  restoration  of 
what  he  had  destroyed ;  a  longing  which  assumed 
the  semblance  of  love,  and  led  grief  by  the  hand  ; 
while  the  first  foe  still  followed,  never  flagging  with 
his  whips,  and  chasing  him  into  madness.  There 
his  thoughts  wallowed  through  a  miry  flood,  till 
the  longing  became  loathing,  the  love  hatred  ; 
and  struggling  to  free  himself  he  slipped  in  viler 
sloughs,  where  successive  horrors  encompassed 
him,  receding  and  advancing  like  the  waves  of 
a  sea,  till  on  their  long  rolls  they  tossed  up  the 
Ghost.  And  these  same  thoughts  dimly  perceived 
himself  now,  with  the  great  darkness  falling  again 
upon  him,  that,  as  he  peeled  it  in  broad  flakes 
from  one  place,  fell  upon  another. 

His  frenzied  violence  at  departure  was  not  un- 
noticed by  Redruth,  who  followed  at  a  distance 
through  the  wilderness  of  neglected  growth. 
Toward  nightfall,  while  he  still  wandered  hardly 
knowing  why,  crackling  boughs  and  an  intermit- 
tent trampling  drew  him  from  the  path,  and  in 
the  thickest  of  the  woods  he  found  his  master 
thrown  senseless  at  the  trunk  of  a  tree,  the  snort- 
ing horse  not  far  off.  There  was  a  wood-cutter 
within  hail,  the  sound  of  whose  cutting  fell  with 


256  SIR  ROHAN'S  GHOST. 

clear  echoes,  a  ringing  musical  chopping  ;  and 
having  secured  his  aid,  they  exerted  all  their 
strength,  raised  the  senseless  man  to  the  saddle, 
and  led  him  home. 

Physicians  were  soon  summoned,  but  Kedruth 
bethought  himself  of  a  nurse  tenderer  than  the 
others,  though  so  far  away,  and  wrote  that  night 
to  St.  Denys,  directing  his  letter  by  the  one  he  had 
found  on  the  clavichord.  Scarcely  had  the  mail 
time  to  reach  the  Castle  and  return,  when  Miriam 
and  St.  Denys  stood  by  the  sick  man's  bedside. 


XIII. 

HALCYON  DAYS. 

SIR  ROHAN  lay  prostrate  under  a  fierce  fever ; 
only  a  constitution  of  iron  strength,  wiry  and 
elastic,  could  have  arisen  from  it.  For  many  days 
the  unrelenting  heats  stung  him  along  narrow 
ways.  Goaded,  parched,  and  panting,  at  last  sleep 
overtook  him  ;  the  delirium  consumed  itself ;  and 
waking,  purposeless  and  dejected,  life  fluttering  at 
his  pulse  for  release,  as  he  hung  in  the  balance  of 
Fate,  he  found  the  Ghost  gone.  It  were  an  idle 
speculation  to  question  if  she  found  sorrow  in  the 
work  imposed  upon  her  or  self-assumed,  —  she  was 
flown  with  her  battalia  to  assist  his  other  enemy. 

As  his  languid  eyes  opened,  and  he  slowly  re- 
ceived perception  of  what  he  saw,  Miriam,  sitting 
at  a  low  table  with  her  needle,  seemed  as  much  an 
apparition  as  all  things  else  ;  and  again  he  suffered 
the  weary  lids  to  fall.  But  she  had  seen  the 

22* 


258  SIR  ROHAN'S  GHOST. 

glance,  and  rising  with  her  sweet  smile,  came 
toward  him,  moistened  his  lips  with  the  cordial, 
rearranged  the  pillows  while  the  physician  raised 
him,  welcomed  him  back  to  life  with  low  happy 
tones ;  and  as  he  raised  his  eyes  again,  met  them 
with  so  kind  a  gaze,  so  pitying,  so  tender,  that  his 
faint  heart  trembled  in  his  throat. 

Some  change  he  felt  in  her  nevertheless  ;  what, 
he  could  not  trouble  himself  to  find,  but  a  happy 
one  ;  and  at  all  events,  she  was  here,  she  was  real, 
the  Ghost  would  never  display  her  in  this  guise. 
It  was  St.  Denys,  too,  entering  now,  frank,  warm- 
hearted, rejoicing,  reassuring  him,  and  bringing 
smiles  to  his  pale  lips.  He  was  right,  he  said  to 
himself;  he  knew  Miriam  would  free  him.  Too 
weak  to  be  glad,  he  only  felt  the  vacancy  left 
around  him,  as  one  dwelling  on  the  coast  misses, 
when  travelling  inland,  the  measured  beat  upon 
the  rocks,  the  distant  whisper  of  the  surf  along 
the  sand.  But  with  these  brief  hints  of  the  Ghost, 
his  heart  beat  so  hotly  that,  life  now  again  invalu- 
able, he  was  forced  to  cease  all  thought  and  aban- 
don himself  to  the  luxury  of  repose,  of  receiving 
care,  of  seeing  Miriam. 

Day  by  day  now  brought  returning  strength, 


HALCYON    DAYS.  259 

health  flowed  back  in  its  old  channels,  he  sat  up 
several  hours.  During  this  halcyon  period,  Mir- 
iam read  to  him  what  was  to  be  found, — a  task  that 
perhaps  she  would  not  have  chosen  to  please  her- 
self alone,  reading  just  light  enough  to  beguile  his 
mind,  while  the  musical  accent  soothed  his  ear ;  or 
recited,  in  the  twilight,  pastorals  slipping  along  a 
stream  of  smooth  vowels,  that  she  had  picked  up 
somewhere  in  her  wanderings,  or  ballads  whose 
breath  was  a  lengthened  sigh,  —  recited  them,  till 
from  their  dim  and  tearful  atmosphere  she  seemed 
only  to  have  taken  shape  for  the  nonce.  She  sur- 
rounded him  with  sweet-smelling  flowers,  served 
his  dainty  diet  with  a  fastidious  grace  peculiar  to 
herself,  ransacked  her  brain  for  devices  against 
monotony.  Always  she  had  a  treasury  of  spark- 
ling gossip  on  which  to  draw,  till  judging  he  had 
heard  enough.  She  imparted  health  as  a  heated 
iron  imparts  caloric. 

Before  long  she  ceased  to  be  with  him  so  much, 
and  very  soon  Sir  Rohan  found  means  to  descend 
to  the  drawing-room  for  a  part  of  every  day.  Then 
with  St.  Denys  they  drove  out  in  the  open  ever- 
green glades  of  the  park,  imbibing  health,  though 
scarcely  equal  strength,  from  the  sweet  resinous 


260  SIR  KOHAN'S  GHOST. 

perfume  that  loaded  the  air,  where  the  sun  had 
lain  all  day  on  the  pines,  more  richly  than  that  of 
orange-groves.  Or  in  the  clear  mornings  Miriam 
drove  him  into  the  neighboring  town,  where  the 
gay  colors  and  voices,  the  bustle  and  merriment, 
consequent  on  the  autumn  fairs,  pleased  him  like 
a  child,  and  full  of  jokes  and  glee  he  assisted  in 
the  shopping,  and  manifested  the  airy  sportfulness 
of  a  boy,  relapsing  into  completest  fatigue  after 
the  first  draught  of  exhilaration.  It  was  soon 
decided  that,  when  able  to  travel,  he  should  re- 
turn with  his  guests  to  Kent,  spending  the  winter 
there  ;  and  meanwhile,  for  a  man  thus  palpitating 
from  recent  misery,  this  was  bliss  enough. 

Autumn  now  was  at  its  height.  The  woods  of 
beech  and  elm  had  burned  themselves  away  like 
the  funeral  pyre  of  Summer,  the  oaks  were  yet 
brown,  and  the  sky  a  perfect  blue  full  of  softer 
shades  round  the  horizon.  With  Miriam  by  his 
side,  Sir  Rohan,  believing  himself  almost  re- 
stored, enjoyed  the  air,  the  quiet,  when  one 
afternoon  Arundel  was  announced.  Before  he 
greeted  the  others,  by  more  than  a  familiar  nod, 
he  walked  toward  Sir  Rohan. 

"  It  was  a  great  liberty  I  took,  sir,"  he  said,  in 


HALCYON    DAYS.  261 

a  low  tone.  "  I  most  truly  beg  your  pardon.  I 
hope  you  will  believe  that  if  I  had  been  myself 
such  conduct  wouldn't  have  transpired.  And  if 
you  still  desire  it,  am  ready  to  afford  you  the  sat- 
isfaction demanded,  although  I  can't  but  trust  you 
think  better  of  it,  and  will  number  me  among  your 
friends." 

"  Point  device !  "  said  Miriam. 

Sir  Rohan  shook  his  extended  hand  warmly,  for- 
getting everything  in  his  present  moods. 

"  I  have  satisfaction  enough,"  he  replied,  "  in 
returning  health,  and  my  friends  are  not  so  many 
that  such  an  addition  is  unacceptable." 

But  hardly  were  the  words  spoken,  when  the 
scene  in  the  woods  rushed  upon  his  recollection. 
He  colored  and  bit  his  lip.  After  all, — who  knew  ? 
— Arundel  might  not  have  fired;  Sir  Rohan  would 
give  him  the  benefit  of  the  doubt.  Meantime,  the 
wily  lawyer  was  proceeding  with  volubility. 

"I  have  been  waiting  more  impatiently  than 
you  will  believe,  for  this  opportunity  of  offering 
apologies,"  he  returned,  "  ever  since  my  trip  to 
the  North ;  and  I  am  pleased  to  find  you  so  much 
better  than  I  expected ; "  saying  which,  he  turned 
to  salute  his  relative  and  Miriam. 


262  SIR  ROHAN'S  GHOST. 

"  Since  I  couldn't  go,  you  came,  St.  Denys,"  he 
said,  "  the  very  person  I  was  wishing  to  see.  You 
must  allow  me  to  congratulate  you  on  your  excel- 
lent management  of  invalids.  You  should  take 
out  letters  overt  for  the  art." 

"  That  palm,  Marc,  must  be  laid  at  Miss  Miri- 
am's feet." 

"  0,  she  is  a  perfect  Hygieia,  begging  her  pardon 
for  the  heathenism,"  he  rejoined.  —  "  But  strength 
is  needed,  Sir  Rohan,"  he  added,  returning  to  the 
charge.  "  You  remind  me  of  the  prayer  of  an  old 
Methodist  friend  of  mine,  for  his  dissolute  son : 
'  0  Lord,  take  my  son  John  and  shake  him  over — ' 
a  place  I  'd  mention  if  your  polite  ears  were  not 
here,  Miss  Miriam,  —  'but,  0  Lord,  hold  on  thy 
grip ! '  And  I  should  say  the  Lord  had  taken  the 
wrong  person." 

"An  old  story,  Mr.  Arundel,"  said  Miriam, 
laughing.  "I  was  boasting  once  to  Sir  Rohan 
of  your  historical  powers,  but  this  seems  rather 
of  the  lyric  order." 

"  So  !     Are  we  never  to  sing  truce  ?  " 

"  0  that 's  no  matter !  But  when  will  you  tell 
us  something  to  make  our  hair  stand  on  end,  as 
Nell  and  Nan  say?  Something  really  tingling 


HALCYON    DAYS.  263 

with  terror  ?  You  've  been  up  at  the  North  ? 
Then  certainly  you  have  picked  up  a  new  story." 

"  And  you  want  to  hear  one,  Miss  Miriam  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Well,  as  a  price  of  peace,  when  the  evenings 
are  longer,  and  I  have  untied  the  last  knot  in  my 
last  case,  I  will  tell  you  the  story  of  that.  It  will 
be  well  worth  your  while." 

"  I  am  very  glad  to  be  at  peace,  Mr.  Arundel," 
Miriam  said,  smiling. 

"  And  how  do  your  farms  do  without  you,  St. 
Denys  ?  "  said  he,  approaching  him. 

"  Yery  well,  I  fancy ;  they  are  used  to  the  ex- 
periment. It  will  not  be  long,  though ;  we  hope 
to  take  Sir  Rohan  with  us  for  a  season." 

Arundel  was  slightly  surprised.  "  Indeed  !  "  he 
exclaimed.  "  Is  Kent  more  salubrious  than — " 

"  0  no.  But  it  is  a  change  ;  and  then  it  is  time 
Miriam  went  more  into  society,  —  her  kingdom  has 
waited  long  enough  for  its  Queen.  And  while  she 
is  dancing  round  I  've  no  notion  of  sitting  alone. 
Perhaps  you  will  come  too,  Marc,"  he  added,  with 
an  effort. 

"You  credit  me  with  fine  remembrance.  No, 
it 's  impossible.  I  can't  leave  home  again  till 
spring." 


264  SIR  ROHAN'S  GHOST. 

Miriam  had  said  to  herself,  when  he  was  speak- 
ing with  Sir  Rohan,  "  So  Judas  kissed  his  Master ; " 
but  now,  on  the  contrary,  she  was  actually  pleased 
with  him.  "  He  was  quite  bearable,"  she  declared 
afterward ;  "  apologized  for  an  affront,  promised  a 
story,  and  refused  to  go  to  Kent!  "  And  perhaps 
if  she  had  thought  on  the  subject  a  moment  longer, 
she  would  have  joined,  from  mere  good-nature,  in 
St.  Denys's  invitation. 

"  You  are  indefatigable,  Mr.  Arundel,"  said  Sir 
Rohan. 

"  Success  requires  it.  But  while  you  are  here, 
St.  Denys,  I  am  at  your  service." 

This  was  more  than  St.  Denys  had  asked,  but 
he  thought  there  were  certain  reasons  for  feeling 
more  kindly  than  usual  toward  Arundel,  and 
therefore  would  have  replied  urbanely,  had  not 
Sir  Rohan  himself  thanked  him  for  his  offer, — 
judging  that  the  attempt  upon  St.  Denys  would 
not  be  repeated,  even  if  that  whole  morning  were 
not  a  madness.  It  is  a  peculiarity  of  those  who 
deal  with  unreal  things,  that  they  soon  are  inca- 
pable of  distinguishing  the  true.  Moreover,  Sir 
Rohan  indistinctly  felt  St.  Denys  to  be  safer  in 
the  open  society  of  Arundel,  where  there  could 


HALCYON    DAYS.  265 

be  fewer  opportunities  of  ambush ;  and  now  that 
Miriam's  fortune  was  probably  secured,  there 
could  be  less  motive. 

"  With  only  a  convalescent  as  companion,  and 
in  so  gloomy  a  house,"  said  he,  "my  friends 
will  have  to  call  too  largely  on  their  inner  sun- 
shine." 

"  That  is  one  of  the  inexhaustible  things," 
replied  Miriam.  "  The  more  you  use  it,  the 
more  there  is  of  it." 

"  Nevertheless,  Miss  Miriam,"  said  Arundel, 
"  you  do  not  illustrate  your  assertion.  Where  is 
all  your  gayety  gone,  —  '  Quips  and  cranks  and 
wanton  wiles'?  Your  spirits  are  as  still  now  as 
they  were  exuberant  a  year  ago." 

"  Not  spirits,  but  manners ;  one  is  not  so 
happy  when  boisterous,"  she  returned. 

But  at  Arundel's  remark,  Sir  Rohan  threw 
his  searching  glance  at  Miriam,  to  question  if  it 
were  a  fact.  True,  he  had  himself  observed, 
that  her  ways  were  more  quiet  than  before,  that 
only  now  and  then  the  blithe  roysterer  broke 
from  a  cloud  of  mild  proprieties,  that  the  once 
sudden  angles  of  her  motions  had  rounded  them- 
selves into  curves  of  a  slow  grace ;  she  scarcely 

23 


206 


spoke  so  much,  nor  was  her  laugh  so  loud,  nor 
was  it  always  to  be  known  which  way  she  went, 
as  formerly,  hy  her  scattered  properties.  But 
her  brow  was  clear,  her  smile  sweet ;  no,  it  was 
not  change,  but  development.  Do  we  not  al- 
ways accumulate  —  so  slowly,  so  gradually,  that 
the  process  seems  imperceptible  —  emotions  and 
experiences  for  a  new  phase  of  life,  and  wait  for 
some  sudden  event  to  give  them  crystallization 
or  destiny  ?  So  it  had  been  with  Miriam,  he 
thought;  and  so,  while  away  from  him,  she  had 
passed  in  a  beautiful  efflorescence  from  child  to 
woman.  She  seemed  to  him  too  rich  in  some 
real  happiness,  to  bubble  up  with  an  efferves- 
cence of  joyousness.  She  had  reached  the  first 
period  of  self-consciousness,  a  period  as  full  of 
bliss  as  of  pain.  The  heir  apparent  to  so  regal 
bounty,  as  this  perfect  creature  must  be,  need 
not  hasten  to  assume  her  crown  and  display 
the  dazzle  of  its  gems,  he  thought. 

"  Moreover,"  resumed  Miriam,  a  little  aside, 
to  Marc,  while  he  thus  meditated,  "  I  may  be 
triflingly  stunned  by  your  agreeability." 

"  All  ?  I  did  not  think  of  claiming  any  share 
in  so  delightful  a  transformation." 


HALCYON    DAYS.  267 

"Now  you  are  going  to  be  rude,  Mr.  Arun- 
del !  "  she  said,  half  pouting. 

Arundel  looked  at  her  a  moment  with  a  pecu- 
liar expression,  then,  without  replying,  startled 
Sir  Rohan  by  exclaiming,  "  Half-past  four  !  Do 
you  ever  dine  here,  or  do  you  live  on  the  am- 
brosia of — .  I  must  bid  you  good  morning,  Sir 
Rohan.  I  shall  see  you  soon  again,  St.  Denys." 

"  Once  in  a  while  we  dine,"  said  Sir  Rohan. 
"  Will  you  stay  and  try  po thick  ?  It  would  give 
us  much  pleasure." 

"Why,  no,  sir;  but  let  me  hope  that  at  some 
other  time  I  may,  Arab  fashion,  eat  your  salt." 
And  he  turned  to  go,  first  exchanging  a  few  low 
words  with  St.  Denys. 


M; 


XIV. 

MIRIAM'S    KINGDOM. 

TRIAM  had  slipped  from  the  room,  but  as 
Arundel  stepped  into  the  hall  he  heard 
her  light  footfall,  and  in  a  moment  more  was 
beside  her  again. 

"I  brought  you  this  bouquet,  Miss  Miriam," 
he  said,  notwithstanding  he  could  see  the  over- 
flowing greenhouse  as  he  stood,  "  and  was  so 
ungallant  as  to  forget  about  it.  It  is  faded 
now,  yet  perhaps  you  will  take  it ; "  and  he 
offered  it  with  a  glance  and  gesture  that  broadly 
told  of  a  heart  offered  anew  with  it. 

Miriam  hesitated  a  moment,  then  receiving 
them,  said,  "  Thank  you  for  your  flowers." 

"  And  the  heart  goes  for  nothing  ?  "  he  ex- 
claimed. 

"  No,  no,  Marc,  do  not  speak  so ;  you  know 
we  are  to  be  friends." 


MIRIAM'S  KINGDOM.  269 

" Friends!  I  don't  want  your  friendship,  —  I 
ask  for  your  love  !  " 

"  Love  would  not  be  worth  taking,  without 
the  other." 

"  Miriam,  how  long  must  I  serve  ?  Could 
you  ask  for  more  constancy?  Love  will  come, 
once  sealed  by  marriage." 

"  Marriage  is  too  divine  a  sacramental  bread 
to  be  broken  between  us,"  she  said. 

"  Marriage  is  n't  a  sacrament  in  our  church," 
he  retorted. 

"Not  a  sacrament,  but  too  frequently  on  one 
side  a  sacrifice." 

"  Then  you  won't  be  my  wife  ?  I  need  n't 
ask,  I  see ;  you  've  your  old  answers  pat.  But 
they  're  all  false ;  only  this  one  true  —  you  love 
him  —  him !  But  he  never  shall  have  you," 
he  added  in  a  lower  yet  fiercer  tone.  "Your 
words  can  be  his  ruin ;  it  hangs  on  you.  See ! 
I  never  will  ask  again.  Refuse  me  now,  and  it 
is  forever !  " 

A  quick,  angry  answer  leaped  to  Miriam's  lip 
arid  flashed  in  her  eye ;  but  something  taught  her 
that  if  the  man  loved  he  suffered,  and  repressing 
it,  she  only  said  pleadingly,  — 

23* 


270  SIR  ROHAN'S  GHOST. 

"  Don't  make  me  angry,  Marc." 

He  turned  upon  his  heel  as  if  to  go,  but  re- 
tracing his  steps,  came  and  bent  toward  her  face. 
Miriam  sprang  back  indignantly,  then  heard  his 
short  laugh,  as  he  exclaimed, — 

"  Ha !  ha !  we  should  do  capitally  on  the  boards. 
No  two  better  actors  in  the  kingdom.  If  St. 
Denys  should  die  and  leave  you  unprovided  for, 
I  'd  advise  you  to  try  it ! "  and  before  the  wrath 
that  overwhelmed  her  could  find  expression,  he 
was  gone.  -  His  last  coarse  words,  she  saw,  had 
betrayed  him.  It  was  St.  Denys's  money,  not  his 
ward,  he  wooed.  He  should  have  it  all. 

Yet  a  year  afterward, — when  she  heard  that 
Arundel,  still  doubtless  on  his  way  weaving  snares 
for  others,  was  himself  caught  in  one  that  forced 
him  to  seek  safety  in  emigration,  where,  with  an 
ocean  between  them,  she  was  never  again  to  be 
troubled  by  his  sight  or  influence,  —  Miriam  did 
not  regret  that  words  had  failed  her  on  this  oc- 
casion. 

Meanwhile,  within  the  drawing-room,  St.  Denys, 
as  Arundel  went  out,  looked  up  and  surveyed  his 
companion  from  head  to  foot. 

"For  Heaven's  sake,  Rohan,"  he  said,  "why 


MIRIAM'S  KINGDOM.  271 

are  you  not  like  ordinary  men,  and  twenty  years 
younger  ?  " 

"  Things  without  remedy  should  be  without 
regard,"  sadly  quoted  the  other. 

"  I  wonder  if  I  am  doomed  to  mistrust  that  man 
continually  ?  He  seemed  to  you  very  affable  this 
afternoon  ?  " 

"  Yes,  very." 

"  And  I  have  always  observed  him  so,  when 
most  pleased  at  any  piece  of  mischief  he  has  in 
hand.  Before  this  spider  spins  his  toils  round  her, 
my  friend,"  continued  St.  Denys,  somewhat  cau- 
tiously, "  why  not  win  and  marry  my  little  girl?" 
This  proposal  he  made  with  the  air  of  one  ashamed 
of  himself,  as  an  Englishman  would  barter  a  Cir- 
cassian. 

"  Impossible  !  "  ejaculated  Sir  Rohan,  looking  at 
him  with  wonder,  and  now  that  his  own  wish 
was  urged  by  another,  summoning  every  reason 
to  oppose  it.  "I  am  wedded  to  an  inexorable 
past." 

St.  Denys  seemed  confounded  an  instant.  "  You 
are  speaking  figuratively  ? "  said  he  then. 

"  I  mean  that  I  will  not  poison  your  i  little 
girl's'  existence  by  the  shadow  of  my  own." 


272  SIB  ROHAN'S  GHOST. 

"  I  hardly  comprehend  you.  But  if  Death  has 
ever  brought  you  a  sorrow  such  as  it  brought  me, 
I  cannot  imagine  where  a  dearer  consolation  is  to 
be  found  than  mine,  than  Miriam.  You  love  her 
now.  And  as  for  the  poison,  —  pshaw !  She  was 
never  so  gay  as  in  your  house." 

"  Do  you  know  that  I  think  I  must  have  been 
mad  awhile  ago,  if  not  a  great  portion  of  my 
life  ? " 

"  More  mad  now,  if  you  persist." 

"  I  beg  you  not  to  mention  the  thing  to  her.  If 
unconscious,  let  her  remain  without  making  me 
abhorrent  by  such  an  idea." 

"  Don't  slander  my  friend,  if  you  please.  And 
remember  that,  since  you  cannot  be  improved, 
nothing  would  give  me  more  happiness.  Try." 

"  I  am  ill  and  old." 

"  How  old  are  you,  Rohan  ? " 

"  Forty." 

"  A  vast  age  !  and  I  a  lustre  more.  What  gray- 
beards  ! " 

"  I  wonder  why,"  said  Sir  Rohan  after  a  pause, 
"  you  cherish  this  romantic  friendship  for  me.  I 
do  nothing  to  deserve  it,  all  to  forfeit  it ;  and  after 
sleeping  twenty  years,  it  is  all  at  once  bright  as 


273 


"  It  has  not  slept  twenty  years.  What  use  is  it 
to  recall  our  boyhood,  I  should  like  to  know  ? 
We  were  friends  then.  I  could  not  have  been 
living  but  for  you,  Rohan  ;  and  after  that,  had  we 
any  games,  studies,  or  thoughts  but  in  common, 
till  you  left  me  ?  Who  had  ever  more  morbid 
weaknesses  corrected  by  another  than  I  by  you  ? 
I  owe  infinite  sums  to  your  courage,  your  friend- 
ship. You  don't  forget  it,  though  you  have  buried 
yourself  alive.  How  can  I  ?  " 

"  And  can  you  look  at  me  with  clear  eyes,  and 
fail  to  see  that  I  should  make  her  miserable  ?  " 
"  Certainly  I  fail  to  see  it." 
"  Then  why  do  you  wish  me  changed  ?  " 
"  Checkmated  !     Why,  sir,  that  you  may  fill  a 
young  lady's  ideal." 

"  And  you  think  that  possible  ?  " 
"  Perhaps  I  ought  to  ask  if  she  fills  yours." 
"  You  should  remember  that  I  have  no  ideal." 
"  My  child,  indeed,  has  had  no  mother,"  said 
St.  Denys,  apologetically,  —  "has  wanted  for  all 
feminine  instruction,  and  lacks  a  little  that  un- 
broken dignity  of  the  thorough  lady ;  but  —  " 

"  She  is  the  freer  from  artificiality  therefore  ; 
the  rarer,  richer,"  interrupted  Sir  Bohan. 


274  SIR  ROHAN'S  GHOST. 

"  You  think  it  ?  Then  why  not  follow  my  ad- 
vice, —  win  her  ?  " 

"  By  God's  help,  I  will !  "  Sir  Rohan  was  about 
to  say.  But  what  right  had  he  who  had  broken 
law  to  require  help  ?  It  was  an  obstacle  not  to  be 
destroyed,  so  he  turned  his  back  upon  it.  "  As  I 
live,  I  will,"  he  said. 

St.  Denys  took  his  hat  and  stepped  upon  the 
terrace,  in  search  of  Redruth,  the  glamour  of 
friendship  still  sealing  his  eyes  ;  and  Sir  Rohan, 
with  beating  heart,  waited  an  instant  before  open- 
ing the  door  and  unexpectedly  confronting  Mir- 
iam. 

She  stood  where  Arundel  had  left  her  at  the 
foot  of  the  staircase,  one  hand  upon  the  balus- 
trade, the  other  hanging  by  her  side,  with  droop- 
ing head  and  sidelong  glance,  absorbed  in  reverie. 
At  his  advance,  she  started,  and  caught  her  foot  in 
the  heavy  mat.  He  bent  to  disentangle  it,  and  as 
he  rose  with  the  flush  of  stooping  on  his  face,  said 
simply,  "  St.  Denys  says  we  must  leave  soon. 
When  I  return,  shall  it  be  alone  ?  Will  you  come 
with  me,  Miriam  ?  " 

She  hardly  knew  what  he  said  ;  her  mind  was 
not  yet  clear  from  the  storm  Arundel  had  aroused. 


MIRIAM'S  KINGDOM.  275 

Ire,  to  be  thus  addressed  again  and  so  soon,  re- 
newed the  confusion,  and  with  a  curling  lip  she 
sprung  past  him  up  the  stairs  and  into  her  own 
apartment. 

Yet  once  there,  her  face  sunk  into  her  hands. 
What  had  she  said  ?  What  had  she  done  ?  Had 
he  asked  her  to  return  with  him  ?  How  ?  As  his 
wife  ?  Yes,  yes.  But  was  it  true,  what  that 
wretch  had  said  ?  Did  she  love  him  —  Did  she 
not  love  him  ?  "0  my  heart !  "  she  cried,  as  it 
rushed  over  her,  "  is  it  too  late  ?  "  And  impetu- 
ously as  she  had  entered  the  room,  she  left  it. 

But  at  the  first  step  a  sentiment,  totally  new, 
routed  her ;  —  a  timidity,  a  shame,  a  doubt ;  —  and 
more  and  more  slowly  she  descended,  till  standing 
in  the  selfsame  attitude  at  the  foot  again. 

Sir  Rohan  remained,  according  to  his  custom 
when  suddenly  excited,  as  the  blow  struck  him, 
upright,  motionless,  and  frozen  one  might  say,  but 
for  a  scarlet  dye  upon  his  cheek.  The  hush  about 
him  was  like  that  preceding  some  explosion,  when 
every  breath  seems  drawn  into  stillness.  He  ap- 
peared not  to  notice  her  as  she  stood  there,  till  at 
last,  as  unreasonably,  he  turned  slowly  toward  the 
beautiful  face  bathed  in  tears,  the  great  eyes 


276  SIR  ROHAN'S  GHOST. 

raised  a  moment  to  his,  full  of  love.  He  stooped 
forward,  his  breath  swept  her  cheek,  his  lips 
touched  hers,  grew  to  them,  in  a  passionate  dar- 
ing. Then,  as  wildly,  he  tore  them  off,  and  com- 
menced walking  the  hall. 

How  long  she  waited,  paled  and  flushed  alter- 
nately in  uncertainty,  hope,  and  fear,  Miriam  did 
not  know.  She  abode  like  a  culprit,  while  her 
sentencer  measured  the  tiles  with  his  stride.  The 
great  tongue  of  the  clock  struck  six,  and  only  with 
its  resonant  clangor  did  his  step  cease. 

"  Miriam,  Miriam,"  he  murmured  like  one  in  a 
dream,  "  do  you  love  me  ?  " 

"  You  know  I  do,  Sir  Rohan,"  she  answered 
pathetically. 

She  felt  him  draw  near,  though  she  dared  not 
see,  —  felt  his  ardent  smile,  his  outstretched  arms, 
the  embrace  with  which  they  held  her  ;  and 
silently,  Miriam  had  found  her  costly  kingdom. 

And  for  Sir  Rohan,  —  all  things  were  swallowed 
in  the  fruition  of  the  moment.  Life  was  sweet,  he 
said  ;  rest  and  joy.  Life  was  Miriam. 


THE    TWO. 

THE  next  week  to  Sir  Rohan  passed  in  a  deliri- 
ous rapture  ;  every  hour  with  its  blessings 
repaid  him  for  a  year's  pain ;  and  Miriam,  crown- 
ing his  ecstasy  to-day  with  her  sweet  gravity,  to- 
morrow with  a  triumph  of  wild  and  overflowing 
gayety,  filled  him  at  first  with  keen  delight,  and 
then  with  an  alarm  as  exquisite,  lest  some  sudden 
sorrow  should  fall  and  quench  the  flame.  In  her 
felicity  he  believed  as  fully  as  in  his  own. 

St.  Denys,  glad  as  and  more  hilarious  than 
they,  left  the  lovers  by  themselves,  and  made 
arrangements  for  their  departure,  whose  day  he 
finally  fixed. 

When  Sir  Rohan  considered  his  happiness,  it 
appeared  too  great  a  thing  to  be  true  ;  and  if  Mir- 
iam left  his  side  for  a  time,  he  feared  lest  it  should 
prove  some  illusion  that  would  shortly  refuse  to 

24 


278  SIR  ROHAN'S  GHOST. 

deceive  him.  He  felt  himself  again  in  the  vernal 
flood  of  youth,  and  cast  not  a  thought  011  the  dark 
tide  between,  for 

"  True  love  hath  no  powre 
To  looken  backe  ;  his  eies  be  fixt  before." 

As  for  Miriam,  she  was  more  glowing,  more 
radiant,  than  a  Maenad.  Her  eyes  flashed  vivid 
lightnings  all  day ;  existence  was  to  her  like  a 
sculptured  frieze,  a  perpetual  scene  of  never-vary- 
ing enjoyment.  The  contrast  which  they  pre- 
sented was  that  between  a  picture  blazing  with 
gorgeous  Venetian  tints  and  another  abounding 
only  in  quiet  cinereous  colors  and  stern  outlines  ; 
but  his  tranquillity  was  as  grateful  to  her  as  cool 
draughts  from  a  rocky  well  to  one  in  midsummer. 
Her  life  was  full  of  salient  points,  each  one  beaked 
in  sunshine.  He  was  still  and  grave  :  she  needed 
toning  down.  Their  difference  in  age  exceeded 
twenty  years ;  nevertheless,  he  was  still  young, 
and  that  was  all  she  was.  At  least,  so  Miriam 
felt. 

As  St.  Denys  saw  them  thus  together,  he  re- 
membered that  in  the  midst  of  the  fierce  August 
heats  that  brood  over  a  languishing  land  and 
sting  out  the  red  bells  and  pricking  growth  of 


THE    TWO.  279 

later  summer,  there  sometimes  comes  a  day  that 
scents  the  fresh  stir  of  advancing  autumn,  the 
clear  air  washing  a  cool  retiring  blue  with  frosty 
sparkles  of  vigor  and  hope,  and  all  the  earth  turn- 
ing, as  it  seems,  to  a  new  phase  of  fine  and  sweet 
maturity. 

One  asks  what  is  this  love  that  never  palls,  that, 
shift  the  kaleidoscope  as  you  will,  presents  a  new 
configuration.  It  must  be  the  universal  sympathy 
alone,  you  answer,  which  will  not  suffer  it  to 
tire.  About  ambition,  jealousy,  and  crimes,  the 
world  varies  ;  that  age  demands  a  good  hater,  this 
repudiates  him.  But  Love  is  the  flower  of  every 
age,  and  foreign  to  no  clime.  Is  it  any  fable,  the 
flower-juice  dropped  on  sleeping  lids  ?  Is  it  not, 
rather,  the  fanciful  expression  of  a  broad  truth  ?  In 
what  subtle  atmosphere  do  lovers  move,  that,  once 
breathed,  intoxicates  with  all  imaginative  freaks  of 
infatuation  ?  What  delicate  ether  is  it  that  creeps 
from  heart  to  heart  to  bathe  both  in  one  medium  ? 
Whence  come  the  threads  that  knit  each  to  the 
caprices  of  the  other's  slavery  ?  What  lodestone, 
what  cynosure,  with  all  magnetic  secrets  and 
latent  force,  equals  the  fearful  and  delicious  at- 
traction that  draws  either  soul  into  eternal  sub- 


280 


jection  and  revolution.  We  know  the  secrets  of  the 
earth's  magnetism,  her  currents,  her  poles,  her  me- 
ridians ;  we  know  nothing  of  this  airy  evanescence 
that  flees  at  a  glance,  and  baffles  all  our  ponderous 
pursuit,  yet  swings  a  planet  at  its  will,  and  is  the 
Viceroy  of  creation.  What  wise  magician  shall  ever 
come  to  read  the  ancient  and  mystical  book  of  its 
lore,  text  and  commentary,  to  translate  to  us  the 
strangest  of  familiar  things,  the  simplest  of  en- 
chantments, the  most  terrible  of  blisses  —  to  tell 
us  what  is  Love.  It  is  the  crown  of  all  experi- 
ence, say  its  prophets.  It  is  a  fulness,  an  impe- 
rial largess  from  overflowing  spirits,  a  wealth  of 
joy  like  generous  sunlight,  a  strength,  a  glory,  an 
aureole,  say  its  devotees.  It  is  a  void,  a  need,  a 
pain,  say  its  victims.  And  those  who  stand  with- 
out, who  see  the  dance  and  do  not  hear  the  music, 
—  what  more  weird  fantastic  folly,  the  madness  of 
the  saturnalia,  the  sacred  fury  of  eleusinian  or 
evantian  choir,  ever  dawns  upon  their  dazzled 
darkness ! 

What  drew  these  two  (of  whom  the  story  tells) 
together,  what  made  of  them  a  single  creature, 
with  one  wish,  one  thought,  one  life,  nothing 
clearly  defines  ;  but  no  rod  of  divination  is  needed 


THE    TWO.  281 

to  detect  the  kindred  quality  of  each.  A  stream 
that  runs  its  melancholy  race  in  dark,  subterra- 
nean caverns,  is  no  less  the  same  when  it  hursts  to 
light  above  in  joyous  flashes  filled  with  the  sun  so 
long  denied, — no  less  it  falls  from  its  brilliant  frolic 
and  flows  on  quietly  to  the  great  sea  beyond. 

In  any  unseen  vase  of  flowers  we  discriminate 
the  odors,  and  there  is  honeysuckle,  we  think,  that 
mignonette,  this  sweetbrier.  But  that  of  two  ori- 
ental coronations  —  no  more  nor  less  than  twin 
garden  pinks  —  with  its  ineffable  spice  of  clove 
and  cassia,  who  thinks  of  separating  ?  The  two 
do  not  emit  different  rays  of  perfume,  but  slip- 
ping into  each  other,  form  one.  They  are  the 
same  thing.  What  else  were  Sir  Rohan  and  Mir- 
iam? And  what  more  frail  and  perishable  than 
their  unsupported  happiness  ? 

I  linger  a  moment  over  these  few  brief  days, 
days  marred  by  nothing,  days  coming  but  once. 
They  have  for  me  that  fragrance  of  a  book  where 
I  have  pressed  a  rose,  and  a  shade  of  soft  sadness 
always  tinges  such  in  the  remembrance,  —  it  may 
be,  like  an  attraction  of  opposite  poles.  And  thus 
the  image  of  Miriam,  resplendent  in  loveliness, 
bathed  in  wafts  of  light  and  grace,  a  flowery  thing 

24* 


282  SIR  ROHAN'S  GHOST. 

of  smiles  and  joy,  standing  in  the  dark  halls  of 
the  gray  old  house,  beneath  the  stone  heraldic 
cope,  —  if  seen  through  this  magic  lens  that  mel- 
lows all  the  landscape  and  imparts  a  golden  air, 
borrows  from  it  also  that  pathos  which  distance 
and  excessive  beauty  give. 


XVI. 

IN    THE    LANES. 

ONE  morning  shortly  after  this  event,  the  gen- 
tlemen were  walking  to  and  fro  in  the  shrub- 
bery. There  had  been  no  frost  yet,  but  the  dew 
lay  in  tiny  globes  on  the  broad  leaves  as  if  shiver- 
ing and  clustering  for  company.  To  them  came 
Miriam,  in  a  daintiness  of  morning  costume  but 
recently  indulged. 

"  Papa,"  said  she,  "  I  wish  I  could  talk  slang." 
"  My  dear,  I  don't  find  you  deficient  there." 
"  I  expected  that !     But  I  mean  jockey  slang,  so 
that  I  could  challenge  Sir  Rohan  to  a  race  over 
the  downs,  in  real  sporting  phrase.     It 's  so  clear 
and  breezy,  and  would  do  him  such  worlds  of 
good!" 

"  I  take  up  the  glove  without  the  accomplish- 
ment," said  Sir  Rohan,  "  and  back  Pharo  against 
the  Benshee  at  any  odds." 


284  SIR  ROHAN'S  GHOST. 

"Will  you  make  a  book,  papa?" 

"Not  I!"  St.  Deny s  returned.  "It  would  be 
difficult  to  decide  where  the  most  money  were  to 
be  lost." 

"  0,  I  don't  know.  The  Benshee  has  n't  been 
out  this  season.  You  rode  Pharo  to  the  hunt  last 
week,  I  did  n't  hear  that  you  checked  the  hounds 
though.  It  will  be  rather  stupid  for  so  old  a 
hunter  as  Sir  Rohan  to  ride  without  anything 
ahead,  to  kill,  that  is  ;  but  then  my  hat  is  killing, 
and  he  will  always  have  that  before  him." 

"  Like  certain  Easterns  then,  I  ride  for  a  bride. 
Don't  flatter  yourself  with  hopes  of  escape !  "  said 
Sir  Rohan. 

"  So  at  the  best  of  it,"  she  laughed,  "  when  you 
catch  me,  you  catch  a  Tartar." 

"  Well,  little  one,"  said  St.  Denys,  "  you  seem 
to  have  attained  your  object  without  too  much 
slang,  though  I  have  my  doubts  if  your  opponent 
can  do  more  than  swing  in  his  saddle  just  now. 
What  put  that  particular  branch  of  education  into 
your  head  ?  " 

"  Oh  !  Don't  you  know  ?  There  are  some  gyp- 
sies somewhere  across  the  moor,  real  north  coun- 
try people,  and  they  talk  slang,  of  course.  And 


IN    THE    LANES.  285 

one  of  them,  papa,"  she  added,  lowering  her  voice, 
"the  housekeeper  says,  was  hung  in  London,  a 
little  while  ago,  for  something  he  did  on  the  way 
here ;  and  they  are  very  angry  about  it.  How 
they  wander  round !  Do  you  suppose  they  came 
down  to  see  the  land's  end  ? " 

"  An  old  woman,  belonging  to  them,  was  here 
last  night,"  said  Sir  Rohan.  "  Did  n't  she  speak 
with  you  ? " 

"  Yes.  She  was  talking  with  the  maids,  and  I 
went  out  and  crossed  her  palm.  But  she  was 
very  odd.  She  only  muttered  some  gibberish  — 
slang,  maybe  —  and  threw  my  hand  up  to  my 
face,  looked  at  me  a  minute,  and  whispered,  '  So 
you  think  you  '11  marry  him,  the  pale  villain  yon. 
Toss  it  away,  you  won't.  You  are  one  of  us.' " 

"  Miriam,  —  she  did  n't  say  that  ?  "  asked  Sir 
Rohan. 

"  Truly !     Who   cares  ?    I  should  like  to  see 

/ 

her  forbid  the  banns  !  "  said  she. 

"  Saucy  Miriam !  where  are  your  blushes  ?  " 
exclaimed  St.  Denys.  Whereupon,  the  breakfast- 
bell  ringing,  she  ran  away. 

In  an  hour  or  two,  at  Sir  Rohan's  direction, 
Pharo  and  the  Benshee  appeared  in  the  avenue, 


286  SIR  ROHAN'S  GHOST. 

and  very  shortly,  side  by  side,  with  their  riders, 
they  were  finding  their  way  up  the  long  field. 
Before  them  a  fence  reared  itself,  with  a  lofty 
gate  which  Sir  Rohan  rode  forward  to  open. 

"  Not  that  way,  Sir  Rohan  !  "  cried  Miriam, 
and  making  a  short  turn,  the  Benshee  took  it  like 
a  bird,  and  flew  along  the  other  side  with  the 
speed  of  a  racer.  In  a  moment  Pharo  followed, 
thundering  close  behind.  Miriam  turned  in  her 
saddle  to  see,  then  shook  loose  her  reins  and  flew 
on.  The  Benshee  was  thorough-bred,  and  exhila- 
rated with  her  new  freedom  and  kindled  by  the 
pursuer,  covered  the  ground  well ;  and  though 
Miriam  was  a  light  weight  and  a  light  hand,  and 
though  she  spanned  an  ugly  gap  kicking  the  dirt 
into  Pharo's  eyes,  she  could  not  rid  herself  of  him, 
or  put  more  than  that  distance  between  them.  A 
naughty  glee  was  in  Miriam's  heart,  she  won- 
dered how  one  could  be  happier  than  swinging 
through  the  air  with  such  a  lordly  swiftness,  drank 
in  great  draughts  of  the  fresh  air,  and  inwardly 
staked  every  hope  she  had  in  life  on  keeping 
foremost. 

A  lane  with  rough  fences  here  intersected  the 
course  ;  if  they  turned  down  the  fields,  Pharo 


IN    THE    LANES.  287 

would  certainly  lead ;  Miriam  determined  to  take 
the  fence,  badly  as  it  looked, — and  ignorant  of  what 
might  be  beyond,  giving  the  Benshee  head,  she 
rode  straight  upon  it.  Sir  Rohan  called  to  her  in 
vain ;  she  pointed  forward  with  her  whip,  and 
dashed  on.  The  top  of  many  Cornish  fences  is 
flat  and  broad,  so  that  one  usually  walks  upon 
them,  —  and  suddenly  a  peasant,  with  a  bundle 
of  fagots  on  his  head,  started  into  view  as  he 
slowly  rose  to  pursue  his  way.  The  Benshee  saw 
this  apparition,  swerved  aside,  reared  and  plunged, 
and  then,  before  Miriam  knew  what  had  happened, 
bounded  across  with  such  a  leap  that  she  thought 
she  would  never  light,  and  shot  like  a  whirlwind 
through  the  miry  lane,  round  a  sharp  curve  into 
a  by-way,  over  a  gate  and  field  that  opposed  her, 
till  she  found  herself  in  another  lane,  where, 
putting  down  her  head,  heedless  of  curb  and 
snaffle,  first  showing  a  wicked  eye,  she  flung  out 
her  flanks  with  a  quiver,  and  used  a  pace  that 
only  fright  and  her  previous  excitement  could 
have  aroused. 

Daunted  in  the  first  heat,  and  then  resolved  on 
conquering,  Miriam  kept  her  seat,  knowing  the 
speed  could  not  last ;  but  at  length  having  taken  a 


288  SIR  ROHAN'S  GHOST. 

stony  ascent  at  a  gallop  and  raced  down  like  an  ar- 
row, the  Benshee  closed  as  unexpectedly  as  she  had 
opened  her  career,  and  stood  trembling,  flecked  in 
foam,  with  hanging  head  and  starting  eye.  Miriam 
alighted,  loosened  the  girth,  caressed  and  stroked 
the  animal,  using  all  her  limited  means  to  aid  it, 
and  dreadfully  afraid,  even  in  her  pity,  that  she 
would  lie  down  and  leave  her  solitary  among  the 
moors.  Sir  Rohan  had  followed,  to  be  sure,  but 
then  he  had  not  been  able  to  put  Pharo  to  a  speed 
anything  like  that  of  the  Benshee's,  and  in  the 
bewildering  turns  and  ways  followed  since,  he  had 
lost  all  track  of  her,  while  if  she  did  not  succeed 
in  finding  the  homeward  path,  she  had  the  pros- 
pect of  spending  the  night  in  the  lanes. 

Finally  she  dared  to  remount  and  advance  very 
slowly,  hesitating  long  as  to  which  of  the  two 
ways  that  now  diverged  before  her  she  should 
choose.  She  trusted  the  Benshee,  who  took  the 
sinister  one.  It  led  into  deeper  and  deeper  dells, 
and  deceitful  sloughs.  Hoping  it  would  open  on 
some  fairer  way  she  continued  to  proceed,  while 
the  day  drew  near  close,  darkness  falling  round 
her;  and  to  add  to  her  discomfiture,  a  drizzling 
rain  set  in  that  brought  the  night  with  it.  Still 


IN    THE    LANES.  289 

she  jogged  on,  till  at  last  completely  at  a  loss,  in  a 
thick  gloom,  with  a  wet  wind  blowing  in  her  face, 
the  Benshee  stopped. 

Miriam  was  not  easily  discouraged ;  but  now, 
after  a  moment,  she  bent  down  to  shut  out  her 
thoughts,  her  heart  sinking  within  her.  All  at 
once,  the  wind  seemed  to  be  rolled  away,  and 
some  of  the  darkness.  The  Benshee  shook  and 
started  in  terror;  something  led  her,  and  they 
went  lightly  forward.  Miriam  could  see  noth- 
ing, she  was  more  alarmed  than  ever,  droop- 
ing masses  of  hair  like  threaded  air  seemed  to 
sweep  her  forehead,  she  fancied  an  icy  breath 
licked  her  cheek,  and  only  cowered  closer  to 
the  living  creature  beneath.  They  emerged  into 
a  broader,  smoother  way,  where  the  wind  puffed 
back,  the  airy  hair,  the  breath,  were  gone,  and 
the  Benshee  sped  along  as  in  the  day.  Far 
ahead,  Miriam  now  saw  a  light  that  burned 
steadily,  while  lesser  ones  danced  round  it. 
Anon  she  lost  it,  or  saw  it  fainter,  and  when 
the  Benshee  slackened  her  pace  again,  she  was 
not  many  feet  distant.  Pausing  now  under  the 
lee  of  an  untrimmed  hedge,  she  found  herself  in 
a  small  hollow  quite  thickly  wooded.  One  or 

25  g 


200 


two  carts  were  tilted  around  in  odd  positions, 
and  a  rude  tent  occupied  the  foreground.  There 
might  be  others  among  the  trees,  but  in  the 
faint  light  cast  from  the  red  embers  whose 
flames  had  been  extinguished  by  the  rain,  she 
was  not  able  to  discern  them.  From  the  tent, 
voices  harsh  and  low  proceeded,  but  the  words 
were  some  incomprehensible  jargon.  Now  and 
then,  Miriam  thought  she  heard  a  more  familiar 
tone,  and  was  at  no  loss  to  conclude  that  she 
had  blundered  upon  the  gypsy  encampment. 
Home,  then,  lay  across  the  moor,  but  at  which 
point  of  the  compass  ?  And  how  could  she 
reach  it,  with  not  even  a  stone  to  go  by  ?  The 
voices  rose  within  the  tent. 

"  Not  a  penny,"  said  the  familiar  one.  "  Mind 
you !  I  don't  pay  a  farthing.  He  '11  hand  over 
the  hush-money,  —  enough  to  buy  you  a  farm 
apiece  in  Mesopotamia." 

Angry  unknown  words  were  here  interposed, 
followed  by  a  lusty  English  oath  from  the  for- 
mer speaker.  "To  be  sure  he  will ! "  said  he. 
"  You  Jve  nothing  to  do  but  threaten  disclosure 
of  what  you  saw,  and  what  the  old  woman  told 
you.  What  good  will  that  do  you?  Stupid 


IN     THE     LANES.  291 

oufes !  What  did  I  bring  you  down  from  be- 
yond the  Lord-knows-where  for,  but  that  ?  And 
now  you  're  here  you  '11  be  quiet ;  come  to  the 
sea-side  for  your  health,  and  go  back  when  the 
season  's  over !  And  you  won't  make  him  pay 
yellower  gold,  because,  on  your  way,  Tiny 
was  —  " 

Here  a  chorus  of  wild  articulations  interrupted 
him,  for  he  seemed  to  have  referred  to  the  man 
who  was  hung. 

"  Good !  '•'  he  said,  when  the  angry  tumult 
had  a  little  subsided.  "  I  thought  the  people  of 
the  North  Countree  had  more  fire  than  that,  and 
so  I  find  it." 

"  You  may  find  it  to  your  cost,  brother,"  said 
one,  in  his  own  tongue.  "  Now,  to  waste  no 
more  palaver,  what  must  be  done  ?  " 

"  Waiting.  Is  that  laconic  enough  ?  There  's 
one  witness  yet.  I  must  have  the  old  chap 
swear  to  what  I  learned  from  him;  for  if  it 
should  have  been  just  drunken  raving,  I  ?m  all 
up  a  tree  ;  poor  fellow,  it  was  n't  much  —  " 

Here  the  gypsies,  from  the  clatter,  appeared  to 
be  impatient.  "  Then  I  shall  come  for  you,"  he 
added,  as  if  waking  from  a  little  reverie,  "  and 
you  can  go  in  and  win." 


292 


Other  words  followed,  from  which  the  speaker 
seemed  to  gather  an  unfavorable  import. 

"You'll  forestall  me?"  he  said.  "Try  it! 
that 's  all.  And  you  '11  lose  the  whole.  Per- 
haps he  will  pay  you  for  silence  after  you  've 
told !  Do  you  think  I  profit  by  this  ?  Not  a 
haporth.  I  get  the  girl,  and  hers,  as  I  told 
you,  and  what 's  more,  chew  a  sweet  morsel, 
you  know  yourselves,  a  revenge.  But  it 's  late. 
I  '11  go  —  when  your  word  passes  that  you  '11 
bide  my  time." 

Here  succeeded  a  long  consultation  in  that 
other  tongue,  interspersed  with  now  and  then 
a  bit  of  English,  all  which  must  have  been  the 
identical  slang  wherein  Miriam  had  longed  to 
be  a  proficient.  At  last,  the  stormy  voices  si- 
lenced themselves,  and  one  took  up  the  tale. 

"  We  do  as  you  bid,  brother.  But  hark  ye  ! 
You  fail  us,  —  we  donnot  fail  you.  And  should 
we  get  no  share  of  yon  gold,  we  look  to  you.  And 
we  mun  have  it  though  we  rob  your  heart's  blood 
for  it !  Good  night,  brother." 

The  tent  curtain  lifted,  and  two  or  three  stooped 
out  into  the  night ;  one,  an  old  woman  whose 
voice  proclaimed  her  thev  recent  speaker,  with  a 


IN    THE    LANES.  293 

torch  that  hissed  and  spluttered  in  the  rain  and 
flared  with  the  wind.  As  she  held  it  up,  the  light 
fell  on  the  departing  guest,  and  Miriam  found  him 
to  be,  as  she  had  at  first  surmised,  Arundel.  The 
old  woman  lighted  him  as  he  climbed  the  hollow, 
till  he  was  lost  on  the  land  above,  and  then  re- 
turned, sparkling  the  torch  on  an  evil-looking  tat- 
terdemalion who  stood  with  her  ;  on  a  gypsy  girl 
who  held  a  baby  to  her  breast  and  peered  from  the 
tent  with  bright  black  eyes  that  had  the  same  wild 
glint,  a  speck  of  white  fire,  that  Miriam's  owned  ; 
and  on  her  own  wrinkled  yellow  face,  picturesque 
rags,  and  long,  torn  gray  hair.  Just  as  she  was 
disappearing  within,  the  unaccountable  Benshee 
gave  a  low  whinny.  The  hag  cried  to  her  com- 
panion, in  their  own  tongue,  and  turned  quickly 
toward  the  hedge. 

"  What'n  have  we  here  ? "  she  said,  hanging 
over  it,  and  swinging  the  torch  round  the  head  of 
the  dazzled  girl.  "  Alia !  the  young  Leddy  o'- 
Castle  Sin  Denys  !  Service  to  you.  A  fine  night 
for  a  gallop,  the  dew  just  falling.  Ye  come  such 
sweet  weather  for  a  better  fortune  ?  We  're  none 
of  the  elle-folk  who  dance  in  the  hills  and  weave 
fates,  ye  mun  go  to  them  for  that.  Maybe  ye  'd 

25* 


294  SIR  ROHAN'S  GHOST. 

know  what  makes  you  one  of  us  ?  Ye  've  the 
wild-fire  in  your  eye,  child  !  Ye  '11  know  soon 
enough  !  "  Here  the  hag  bent  lower,  and  assum- 
ing a  leer,  extended  her  palm.  "  Ye  cannot 
thread  the  lanes  with  yellow  boys  about  you.  A 
little  charity,  dear  Leddy,"  she  whined.  But  at 
the  same  instant  snatched  it  away,  and  hit  the 
Benshee  a  crack  that  made  her  rear  upright. 
"  Ye  listen  at  a  man's  door  ?  Go  along  with 
you ! "  she  said,  and  the  beast  flew  like  a  ball  of 
fire.  Miriam  caught  the  pommel  in  her  shock, 
and  fled  fast,  hardly  knowing  which  she  dreaded 
most,  the  fierce  gallop  in  the  dark,  or  the  gypsy 
man  breaking  over  the  hedge. 

In  a  mile  or  two  the  Benshee  relaxed  her  speed, 
and  soon  fell  into  a  trot  that  she  gently  ended 
by  standing  stubbornly  still.  It  seemed  in  vain 
to  urge  her ;  Miriam  dismounted  again,  and  as 
well  as  she  could  see,  led  her  along  in  hopes  to 
find  some  place  where  she  could  hitch  the  bri- 
dle, and  lie  down  herself.  At  last  a  narrow  path 
opened  on  the  right ;  she  ventured  to  follow  it, 
and  soon  found  by  the  slow  ascent  that  she  was  on 
the  moor.  But  here  she  was  as  good  as  lost,  and 
after  an  hour's  forlorn  wandering,  as  much  from 
exhaustion  as  despair  she  put  her  arms  round  the 


IN    THE    LANES.  295 

Benshee's  neck  and  .burst  into  tears.  Suddenly 
the  Benshee  raised  her  head,  with  her  pawing 
feet  warned  the  girl  to  retire,  and  by  her  tremor 
seemed  to  recognize  some  one's  approach.  Miriam 
spoke  soothingly  through  her  sobbing,  but  in  the 
next  moment  caught  herself  the  tramp  of  hoofs 
crushing  the  heath,  aiid  clung  to  the  companion- 
able thing  for  safety.  Far,  far  away,  quite  at  the 
other  end  of  the  moor  it  seemed  to  her,  she  heard 
a  voice  call — Miriam!  Faint  and  thin  it  sounded 
in  her  swooning  ears  ;  she  doubted  could  she  make 
her  reply  audible.  "  Here  I  am !  "  she  thought  she 
cried  like  a  trumpet ;  but  it  was  only  a  murmur, 
and  her  head  sunk  again  upon  the  bent  neck  of 
the  Benshee.  Home,  witli  its  fires  and  lights  and 
comforts,  the  smiles,  the  dear  voices  —  one  of  which 
she  dreamed  to  have  heard  just  now — was  further 
away  than  ever, — was  lost;  she  herself  might  die; 
all  that  love,  that  joy,  was  lost  too.  She  was  sink- 
ing on  the  ground,  when  an  arm  caught  her  waist, 
strong  and  tender ;  passionate  lips  called  her  life 
back  to  answer  them  ;  and  lifted  a  moment  in  the 
air,  she  lay  then  in  Sir  Rohan's  arms,  while 
mounted  on  Pharo  weary  from  his  day-long  search, 
and  leading  the  Benshee,  they  trotted  slowly  and 
joyfully  homeward  down  the  moor. 


XVII. 

WHETHER   OR  NO. 

MIRIAM  lost  and  found,  was  dearer  now  than 
ever.  Dismayed  at  the  chances  that  might 
have  befallen,  he  could  scarcely  endure  her  out 
of  his  sight.  Loving,  previously,  had  heen  like 
living  or  breathing ;  now,  it  was  a  positive  thing, 
another  existence  ;  and  so  precious  did  it  seem, 
that  analyzing,  he  began  to  entertain  a  jealousy 
of  it. 

He  knew  very  well  that  he  always  borrowed 
tone  from  the  nature  that  had  influenced  him  last 
and  strongest.  Thus  when  his  Ghost  was  his  sole 
companion,  he  had  been  fit  for  such  intimacy ; 
afterward,  he  had  taken  St.  Denys's  genial  calm ; 
and  now  when  Miriam,  dancing  and  iridescent  as 
a  foam-flake,  met  and  overpowered  him  with  her 
exuberant  life,  he  was  sentient  of  wearing  the 
same  hues  in  which  she  beamed.  So  that,  in  fact, 


WHETHER    OB    NO.  297 

she  unconsciously  saw  herself  mirrored  in  him, 
and  with  a  natural  self-love  was  attracted  toward 
the  image.  An  apotheosis  of  self-love,  truly ;  but 
then,  thought  Sir  Rohan,  what  more  is  any  other 
love  ?  And  is  not  its  design  and  use,  perhaps,  for 
the  highest  development  of  personality  ?  Those, 
then,  who  have  loved,  —  loved  in  the  mad  flames 
that  burn  away  dross  and  leave  the  bare  edge  of 
self-consciousness  welded  with  that  of  another, — 
those  may  die. 

*  As  a  corollary  to  this  idea,  not  long  subse- 
quently a  strange  fantasy  seized  him.  Floating 
with  Miriam  in  his  boat,  one  sail  stretched  through 
light  and  shade,  down  a  small  river  that  he  had 
not  navigated  for  years,  and  rocking  in  mid- 
channel  on  the  broad  oily  swells  of  the  receding 
tide,  that,  compared  to  the  crisp  wavelets  nearer 
shore,  surrounded  them  like  fields  of  calm,  he 
suddenly  found  himself  drifting  in  a  current  that 
ran  swiftly  out  among  the  breakers  at  the  river's 
mouth,  glimpses  of  whose  white  plumes  he  already 
caught  tossing  in  glee  over  their  approaching 
prey.  The  little  boat,  once  among  them,  would 
be  staved  to  atoms,  wave  after  wave  dashing 
against  it ;  the  strongest  swimmer  would  only  be 


298  SIR  ROHAN'S  GHOST. 

gored  and  impaled  upon  those  cruel  rocks ;  while 
with  the  effort  to  free  himself,  one  oar  snapped, 
and  he  saw  it  sucked  along  far  in  advance.  In 
the  midst  of  his  strenuous  exertions  with  the  re- 
maining one,  he  paused  to  gaze  on  the  unconscious 
girl,  suffering  the  boat  to  drift  onward,  and  think- 
ing were  it  not  "better  both  together  now  to  plunge 
into  the  vortex  of  eternity,  than  that  he  at  some 
future  day,  meeting  a  stronger  influence,  should 
cease  to  reflect  her  nature,  to  represent  her  start- 
ling characteristics ;  should  reassume  himself,  — 
though  still  cherishing  her  tenderly,  —  and  she, 
finding  the  pleasing  likeness  no  longer  there, 
should  cease  to  bestow  her  love  upon  that  which, 
having  held  it,  was  now  to  her  vacant.  A 
thing,  he  felt,  that  might  be  as  natural  for 
her,  as  for  a  queen  to  put  on  and  take  off  the 
crown. 

It  was  not  he  that  experienced  change,  but  cir- 
cumstance that  conquered  him ;  yet  she  —  change 
was  half  her  beauty.  But  while  he  balanced  life 
and  chances,  Time  was  meddling  with  the  weights, 
and  the  boat  settling  downward  ;  and  still  he 
gazed  at  the  one  whose  moments  he  was  number- 
ing, shuddered  at  the  gaunt  image  of  a  day  desti- 


WHETHER    OR    NO.  299 

tute  of  her  devotion,  and  thrilled  at  £he  delirious 
draught  of  death  that  it  was  theirs  to  quaff  in 
youth  should  they  choose.  He  knew  the  wild 
moment  of  fear  that  would  snatch  her  heart  away 
at  first;  but  he  also  pictured  the  returning  pas- 
sion when,  absorbed  in  him,  she  sank  down 
the  great  gulfs  of  darkness,  while,  even  should 
there  be  no  hereafter,  they  almost  eternized 
this  love  by  its  dying  strength,  soul  closing  with 
soul. 

But  in  this  instance,  as  in  others,  the  instinct 
for  life  exceeded  the  reasoning  power,  and  Sir 
Rohan,  after  a  struggle,  made  the  shallower  water 
once  more,  and  following  the  windings  of  the 
stream,  reached  their  starting-point  at  last,  in  the 
shades  of  his  unfrequented  park,  scattering  the 
deer  who  had  trooped  to  drink  in  the  quiet  pools 
of  its  lazier  flow. 

It  was  not,  however,  an  agreeable  conclusion 
that  had  forced  itself  upon  him,  —  that  the  moment 
he  ceased  to  present  in  himself  the  image  of  Mir- 
iam, she  would  transfer  her  love  to  its  next  shrine, 
—  nor  was  it  fealty  to  her.  Neither  was  it  pleas- 
ant to  find  himself  no  relief —  no  cameo  —  but 
merely  a  vacuum  where  other  and  more  glowing 


BOO  SIR  ROHAN'S  GHOST. 

individualities  painted  themselves.  Yet  after  all, 
he  believed  Death  would  come  to  him  sooner  than 
loss  of  love. 

In  short,  it  was  probably  provoking  that  he  had 
no  longer  a  subject  for  annoyance. 


XVIII. 

REDRUTH  SURRENDERS  HIS  ACCOUNTS. 

4* 

AS  Sir  Rohan  announced  his  journey  and  the 
length  of  his  stay  to  Redruth,  after  giving 
direction  for  certain  repairs  and  decorations,  he 
added,  "  When  I  return,  Miss  Miriam  comes  with 
me.  I  shall  bring  my  old  house  a  mistress." 

Hardly  could  he  repress  his  smile  at  the  man's 
amazement. 

"  Dear  soul !  "  he  said.  "  Then  we  're  to  have 
a  Lady,  after  all.  I  knew  she  never  came  for 
naught ! "  And  for  the  first  time,  he  dared  ap- 
proach his  master  on  the  subject  of  his  conduct  in 
the  cellar  the  day  she  went  away,  admitting  Ins 
faults  and  contrition.  But  he  found  that  it  had 
already  passed  from  Sir  Rohan's  mind. 

"  We  '11  forget  that,  Redruth,"  said  he.  "  I 
may  have  spoken  too  harshly ;  it  was  of  no  con- 
sequence." 


302  SIR  ROHAN'S  GHOST. 

On  entering  the  housekeeper's  room,  Mr.  Red- 
ruth  found  the  table  spread  for  tea,  and  his  wife 
knitting  by  the  fire  with  her  two  maids,  to  whom 
magisterially  he  imparted  the  news. 

"  Lady  Belvidere  !  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Redruth. 
"  Pretty  creatur !  Well,  I  knew  it  all  along." 

"You  knew  it?" 

"What,  but  that,  driv  him  to  his  fever?" 

"Drove,  my  dear." 

"  Well,  drove  or  driv,  it 's  all  one." 

"  To  think  of  her  coming  into  this  nest  of 
ghosts ! "  said  one  of  the  maids.  "  The  poor, 
orphanless  child." 

"  But  she  's  laid  them  all,  Nelly.  They  have  n't 
walked  since  she  came,"  replied  the  other. 

"  Indeed,  she  's  not,  Nan.  They  've  left  mas- 
ter, maybe,  —  but  I  see  'em,  when  I  went  in  with 
the  tray,  the  other  night,  round  that  brisk  man, 
the  solicitor,  What's-his-name,  that  comes  from 
abroad.  And  the  head-piece  was  standing  right 
behind  him,  with  her  hands  down,  meek  as  —  as 
anything,"  concluded  Nelly,  for  want  of  a  better 
simile. 

"Well  for  sure,  Nell,  you ''re  a  downright  sim- 
pleton !  That  was  the  statute  of  Venus,"  said 
Nan  jeeringly. 


EBDRUTH  SURRENDERS  HIS  ACCOUNTS.  303 

"  Venice !  I  guess  it  is  n't  that  we  see  every 
evening,  all  white  and  blue,  swairthing  over  the 
flags  out  there,  that  puts  me  all  in  a  fuz !  Nor 
the  Walker !  It 's  not  that  we  hear,  whenever  the 
dark  falls,  come  tramp,  tramp,  tramp,  along  the 
hall,  with  a  low  whistle  01  a  laugh  anent  the 
very  door,  and  then  tramp,  tramp,  off  again, 
and  the  swish  and  trail  of  her  long  dress  follow- 
ing, till  back  she  come  with  liker  a  sob,  and 
sweeps  the  floor  all  night  till  cock-crowing,  as  if 
the  clouds  had  got  into  the  house  and  rained 
steady.  It  ?s  so  lonely  like  near  the  place." 

"  Master  must  'a  done  some  thin'  awful  once, 
or  some  of  his  kin,"  whispered  Nan,  shiveringly. 

"  Humph !  Miss  Miriam  may  say  what  she 
choose.  No  such  thing  as  bugs  round  here !  It 
comes  just  as  near  as  a  fourpence  to  a  groat,  if 
it  an't  one.  That's  all." 

"  Now,  Nell,  maybe  we  was  fools,  and  frightened 
at  master's  ways,  and  took  silly  things  for  spirits. 
There  's  the  gypsies,  —  who  knows  ?  Maybe  it  was 
bats,  or  moonshine,  or  clothes  on  the  line  —  " 

"  There  's  no  line  there,  and  there  warn't  a 
moon,  the  gypsies  had  n't  come,  and  we  know 
bats  when  we  see  'em.  Besides,  May-bees  don't 


304  SIR  ROHAN'S  GHOST. 

fly  this  time  o'  year,  I  Ve  heard  say.  If  we  was 
fools,  then  I  know  who  was  the  biggest  one,  that 
summer  night  when  they  ran  in  cold  as  stone,  eyes 
all  starting  out  and  black  roimd  about,  and  mouth- 
ing, and  looking  stupid  and  brutelike !  A  body 
was  white  as  a  curd  then.  I  would  n't  crow  be- 
fore—" 

"  Hist  now,  girls ! "  said  Mrs.  Redruth,  for  it 
was  getting  dark.  "  I  never  see  none  I  could  n't 
explain  away  myself,  nor  I  don't  believe  you  have. 
Did  you,  Redruth  ?" 

"  Well,"  answered  Redruth,  evasively,  "  a  good 
many  years  ago,  fifteen  —  sixteen  —  eighteen  years 
ago,"  one  dark  night,  I  saw  a  light  on  the  lawn, 
where  the  white  camellia-bush  is,  —  and  there  's 
nothing  whiter  than  that  when  the  buds  are  blown ; 
they  are  like  stars  in  a  sky  — " 

"  But  the  lights  ?  "  queried  Nell. 

"0,  it  was  only  one ;  but  dancing  round 
high  and  low,  now  here,  now  there,  dancing  like 
mad.  I  should  have  said,  if  it  had  been  any- 
where else,  they  were  thieves  with  a  lantern ; 
but  it  could  n't  be  that,  you  know.  One  would  n't 
need  a  lantern  to  pick  the  blossoms,  though 
they  did  look  a  little  soiled  next  day,  and  the 


BEDRUTH  SURRENDERS  HIS  ACCOUNTS.  305 

earth  was  a  little  loose  round  the  tree ;  but  that 
might  have   been    the    rain,  —  it    rained    before 

light." 

"  Pshaw,  Redruth,  it  was  fireflies !  There, 
we  '11  quit  the  matter,  and  say  no  more  about 
it  1  "  Whereupon,  Mrs.  Redruth,  snatching  her 
ball  from  the  kitten,  proceeded  to  make  tea, 
and  the  maids  to  speculate  about  the  master 
and  his  bride. 

But  after  a  few  moments  Redruth  rose  and 
left  the  gossiping  conclave.  He  felt  ill,  he  said 
to  himself,  ill  and  numb,  and  must  take  some- 
thing to  send  a  shiver  over  him.  The  old  stew- 
ard's remedies  always  lay  in  the  cellar,  and 
thither,  with  a  long  glass,  he  betook  himself. 

Mr.  Redruth's  family  from  father  to  son  had, 
for  many  generations,  held  much  such  a  posi- 
tion as  he  did;  and  living  a  somewhat  idle  and 
luxurious  life,  had  transmitted  to  the  last  weak 
offshoot  of  their  race,  not,  indeed,  titles  and  es- 
cutcheons, but  a  certain  inheritance  not  liable 
to  be  lessened  by  superintendence  of  his  mas- 
ter's wines.  And  if  great  dynasties  run  runkly, 
at  last,  to  insanity,  and  my  lord  plumes  himself 
upon  his  father's  gout,  —  if  all  hereditary  traits 

26*  T 


306 


imply  some  honorable  distinction,  —  I  do  not  know 
why  Mr.  Redruth  might  not  boast  that  no  an- 
cestor of  his  had  ever  died  but  with  palsy.  Yet 
so  thoroughly  had  this  family  identified  them- 
selves with  their  employers,  that  it  is  doubtful 
if  the  fact  existed  among  them  even  as  a  tradi- 
tion ;  they  did  not  tell  their  children  of  their 
own  grandfathers,  but  of  their  masters' ;  and 
though  Redruth  had  often  feared  this  catastrophe 
for  himself,  he  did  not  once  remember  it  upon 
this  afternoon.  He  had,  furthermore,  an  engage- 
ment in  the  neighboring  town,  in  about  an  hour. 
Mr.  Arundel,  who  would  be  there  then,  had  sent 
for  him  to  swear  to  the  truth  of  some  statement 
he  had  made.  He  did  not  know  what,  exactly, 
but  it  had  troubled  and  perplexed  him  greatly 
during  the  day,  though  Sir  Rohan's  intelligence 
had  excited  him  in  an  opposite  direction.  More- 
over, Mr.  Redruth  was  to  bring  an  amaryllis  from 
the  town  for  Miss  Miriam,  who  wanted  it  in  the 
conservatory,  where  he  had  promised  her  it  should 
be  that  night;  and  Mrs.  Redruth  had  ordered  a 
new  bonnet  —  lavender  and  straw  —  which  he 
was  to  obtain ;  and  he  believed  he  would  consult 
a  physician,  while  there,  on  the  subject  of  this 
faintness. 


EEDKUTH  SURRENDERS  HIS  ACCOUNTS.  307 

As  Mr.  Redruth  locked  the  cellar  door  and 
hung  the  key  in  its  place,  the  conservatory  at- 
tracted him,  as,  once  before,  it  had  attracted  Mir- 
iam; and  quite  forgetting  the  long  glass  still  in 
his  hand,  he  entered  it,  and  seated  himself  care- 
fully in  the  chair  of  Madeira  wood.  It  was  just 
after  sunset;  the  honeysuckles,  scarlet  and  yel- 
low with  berries,  were  still  brilliant  as  the  vivid 
light  could  make  them,  where  they  climbed  the 
house-wall  opposite,  and  the  open  roof  admitted 
the  cool  evening  breeze.  He  did  not  feel  much 
better  here,  and  resolved  to  wait  a  short  time 
before  meeting  his  engagements,  while  he  looked 
about  on  the  enchantments  evoked  by  his  mas- 
ter's fancy,  and  breathed  the  exhalations  stealing 
insidiously  round  him.  The  light  retreated  along 
the  wall,  ceased  sparkling  in  the  glasses  of  the 
aerides ;  the  orchids  —  so  full  of  life  in  form 
that  he  wondered  to  see  them  silent  —  lost  one 
by  one  their  gay  hues ;  the  darkness  gathered 
down  the  alleys  and  stole  upward,  leaving  noth- 
ing in  distinctness  but  the  always  vague  figures 
of  the  fountain ;  heavy  perfumes  of  the  nocturnal 
flowers  began  to  roll  through  the  dusk,  and  a 
nightingale  to  chant  his  melancholy  songs  on  a 


308  SIR  BOHAN'S  GHOST. 

spray  without.  The  breeze  fell,  a  young  moon 
lay  low  in  the  sky,  and  on  the  floor  of  the  still 
air  strange  new  scents  evolved  themselves  and 
danced  gently  along.  The  charm  of  the  hour 
was  perfect. 

The  myrtle,  collecting  the  dew  011  its  dense 
masses,  faintly  impregnated  and  shook  it  from 
white  stars  glittering  in  the  shade  ;  the  heliotropes 
drooped  purpler,  darker,  richer,  with  their  most 
exquisite  of  atmospheres  ;  the  ophrys,  hanging  on 
the  cheek  of  a  nectarine  like  a  bee,  married  that 
sweetness  with  its  own  ;  and  the  odorous  jasmine 
trailed  in  golden  threads  over  the  tempting  purple 
of  a  ripened  redolent  fig.  The  epidendrum,  too, 
woke  into  life  with  the  night,  and  tossed  him  its 
fragrance,  and,  still  lingering  along  the  year,  rose 
and  lily  and  violet  and  passion-flower  all  turned 
and  blew  their  gales  toward  him. 

But  to  these  a  monarch  waved  his  sceptre. 
Just  above  Mr.  Redruth's  head  hung  one  of  the 
gilded  galleries,  and  over  it  in  riotous  profusion 
the  luxuriant  vines  of  a  night-blooming  cereus 
suspended  its  bursting  buds.  Already  its  dark 
brown  sheathing  parted  ;  already  the  great  star 
within  rivalled  Hesper  in  yellow  brightness ;  already 


REDRUTH  SURRENDERS  HIS  ACCOUNTS.  309 

the  long  snowy  petals,  sailing  calmly  back,  en- 
hanced its  glory,  and  the  multitudinous  silky  sta- 
mens tumbled  out  in  a  cataract  on  the  wind  of  an 
untold  sweetness ;  opening  wider  every  moment 
and  burdening  the  whole  air  with  his  imperial 
presence,  while  by  slower  culmination  others  fol- 
lowed in  his  train.  Mr.  Redruth  watched  it  for  a 
while  in  silence ;  the  nightingale  still  sung,  the 
moon  cast  a  soft  lustre  through  the  panes  upon 
the  spreading  wonder,  the  floating  lilies,  the  great 
agave  beside  him.  Flowering  once  in  a  hundred 
years,  as  the  superstition  ran,  why  did  the  anni- 
versary of  this  agave  come  upon  this  night? 
Why,  sitting  there  like  an  old  necromancer  bound 
in  his  own  chains,  did  it  draw  the  little  breaths  in 
among  its  strong  leaves,  and  emit  them  sickly 
sweet?  —  why  did  a  strange  stir  and  intelligence 
rustle  all  its  sides?  —  why  but  that  the  spell  was 
loosened,  and  it  flowered  to-night.  With  the 
blossom  dies  the  stem.  Swift  as  when  the  sun 
falls  into  the  west  the  clouds  flout  their  joyous 
folds,  the  arrow  of  fulfilment  struck  its  heart,  and 
it  answered  with  the  weird  grand  blossom,  again 
flinging  magic  over  the  world.  But  cereus  and 
agave  were  watched  with  equal  silence  by  Mr. 


310  SIR  ROHAN'S  GHOST. 

Redruth  ;  the  solicited  events  of  centuries  trans- 
pired unnoticed  beside  him.  He  felt  ill,  he 
thought,  and  stupid  ;  how  could  he  reach  town  in 
this  plight  ?  And  what  would  Mr.  Arundel  do 
then?  And  there  was  the  bonnet  and  the  ama- 
ryllis  ;  could  he  but  gain  an  apothecary,  he  might 
be  better.  The  time  when  he  had  told  Miriam  the 
story  of  Fanchon  crept  over  his  memory ;  he  half 
smiled  at  her  false  prophecy,  but  he  remembered 
also,  though  faintly,  that  he  had  drank  one  day 
with  Arundel  in  the  cellar.  What  had  he  said  to 
him  ?  What  had  that  conversation  been  ?  Let  it 
be  as  it  might,  he  could  not  recall  it,  —  but  what 
did  Marc  Arundel  want  with  his  oath  to-night  ? 

0  Mr.  Redruth !  the  lotus  floated  in  its  tank 
within  your  reach,  the  nepenthe  lifted  its  brim- 
ming pitcher  to  your  lips,  the  mandragora  grew 
not  far  away  —  eat  them,  and  forget ! 

Things  wavered  oddly  in  a  kind  of  haze  before 
Mr.  Redruth' s  eyes ;  he  trembled  excessively. 
There  was  Miss  Miriam's  amaryllis  to  be  got.  He 
must  make  an  effort ;  and  he  essayed  to  rise.  It 
was  Atlas  with  the  world  on  his  shoulder  ;  efforts 
were  vain,  —  he  did  not  stir  a  line.  If  he  could 
only  stand,  he  thought,  he  might  walk.  The  place 


REDRUTH  SURRENDERS  HIS  ACCOUNTS.  311 

grew  dark,  and  warm  as  it  was,  his  teeth  chat- 
tered, he  fell  back  in  the  chair,  still  grasping  the 
glass  in  his  hanging  hand.  The  moon  shot  a  fiery 
tip  upon  the  flowery  pendulums  in  the  dome,  then 
withdrew  from  aloe  and  cactus,  and  left  all  the 
tropical  wealth  in  a  starlit  gloom;  but  Mr.  Red- 
ruth  did  not  observe  it,  since  it  had  been  dark 
some  time  with  him.  His  mind  became  confused ; 
a  doubt  crossed  it  if  his  stewardship  had  been 
faithful,  a  stinging  certainty  of  evil  goaded  it. 
Could  that  man  harm  his  master  ?  The  veriest 
trifles  buzzed  round  him ;  he  was  afraid  to  disap- 
point Mr.  Arundel,  he  was  sorry  to  disappoint  Miss 
Miriam. 

Strange  scenes  from  his  youth  long  forgotten, 
now  rose  before  him:  the  proud  hour  when  he 
first  signed  his  name  as  Sir  Rohan's  steward ; 
his  marriage-day ;  the  night  his  son  was  born. 
His  wife,  not  as  now  with  cap  and  spectacles,  but 
young,  blue-eyed,  and  smiling,  seemed  to  sit  by 
his  side  and  hold  his  hand,  while  dim  shadows  of 
childhood  and  age  held  their  revels  before  him. 
Past  and  present  bore  themselves  unusually. 
Tasting  the  wild  honey  that,  a  truant  boy,  he  had 
sucked  from  the  bugloss  horns,  he  drowned  in  it 


312 


the  flavor  of  his  flask.  The  cheek  he  had  kissed 
forty  years  ago  still  blushed  in  his  remembrance, 
but  the  words  spoken  yesterday,  it  might  be, 
sounded  faint  and  far ;  and  feeblest,  yet  most 
persistent  idea  of  all,  was  himself  tearing  his  mas- 
ter's house  in  ruins  about  his  head. 

Another  hour  chimed.  He  had  become  torpid, 
the  odd  sensation  was  extending  to  Jiis  mind,  he 
felt  too  weak  to  catch  at  life  slipping  by. 

What  strange  things  were  moving  now  ?  What 
face  with  its  malignant  mirth  flashed  on  him  ? 
He  had  thought  Mr.  Arundel  would  be  displeased. 
And  that  sad  reproachful  one,  was  it  his  Master  ? 
And  were  these,  proud  of  duty  never  neglected, 
the  stern  old  stewards  dead  and  gone  ?  But  who 
was  this,  awful  and  white,  that  ruffled  his  hair 
and  would  have  made  his  flesh  crawl,  fleshless  it- 
self, touching  him  with  so  chill  a  finger,  smiling 
from  those  cloudy  eyes,  assuring  him  silently  that 
he  had  done  well  ?  In  the  noiseless  tramp  of  what 
host  was  he  marching  ?  What  was  this  darkness 
around,  this  light,  this  freedom,  opening  to  him  ? 
And  what  were  all  the  phantoms  hurrying  by, 
with  him  in  their  midst,  and  sweeping  out,  out 
from  the  place  ?  The  flowers  might  have  cowered 


REDRUTH  SURRENDERS  HIS  ACCOUNTS.  313 

beneath  a  presence  weightier  than  they,  while  the 
poisonous  growths  hailed  their  lord  with  bold  ceii- 
sers  and  blistering  dew,  then  have  risen  shaking  a 
sweeter  air  from  their  cups,  because  they  were 
alone  again.  The  nightingale  ceased  singing  in 
the  thorns ;  the  epiphytes  fluttered  forward  to  stare 
at  the  sleeper ;  the  pallid  gleams  from  some  win- 
dow now  and  then  filled  the  conservatory  with  a 
ghastly  light,  and  shone  upon  the  old  man  trem- 
bling no  more,  but  stiff  and  white  as  marble  in  his 
chair. 

There  was  no  physician  who  could  help  his  case. 
Marc  Arundel  must  come  for  the  oath,  since  all 
engagements  were  broken.  Mr.  Redruth  would 
not  go  into  town  that  night. 

Meanwhile,  as  Death  throned  himself  here,  Life 
was  crowned  in  the  house  beyond,  and  the  mo- 
ments rounded  in  joy. 

Miriam  had  been  riding  again  with  Sir  Rohan, 
and  returned,  laden  with  wild  fruits  like  Pomona, 
was  making  the  night  merry  with  her  masquer- 
ading. Dancing  down  the  vistas  of  the  rooms, 
her  riding-skirt  gathered  over  her  arm,  laughing, 
talking,  silent,  she  still  transmuted  his  long  hours 

27 


3U 


by  the  simple  fact  of  her  companionship.  And  he, 
as  gay,  unconsciously  inspired  the  very  gladness 
that  created  his  own.  At  length  as  midnight 
drew  near,  she  had  flown  from  his  grasp,  and 
pausing  half-way  up,  dropped  him  a  good-night 
song,  and  flown  on  again. 

Sir  Rohan  moved  and  went  out  to  close  the  green- 
house, delaying  within  to  inhale  the  cool  delicious 
fragrance.  The  oranges  hung  their  lamps,  dwarfed 
and  golden  through  the  soft  gloom,  near  at  hand ; 
stately  callas  rose  waxen-white  and  spotless,  half- 
guessed,  on  the  other  side  ;  and  loose  southern 
vines  played  with  his  hair  and  distilled  the  air 
around  him.  The  clear  sweet  singing  of  a  distant 
nocturne  poured  a  brief  melody  through  the  quiet. 
He  fancied  he  could  see  the  rare  scents,  passion- 
ate, tender,  and  exhaustless,  rolling  in  globes  like 
smoke  from  the  dropping  tubes  and  shivering 
sprays. 

But  after  a  time  the  enjoyment  became  mingled 
with  another  feeling,  he  recognized  something  for- 
eign in  the  place  ;  and  though  he  could  not  detect 
it,  he  would  have  said  that  the  other  end  of  the  con- 
servatory was  filled  with  a  misty  brightness.  He 
looked  about  him  with  a  singular  thought,  for  it 


BEDRUTH  SURRENDERS  HIS  ACCOUNTS.  315 

appeared,  at  the  moment,  that  everything  he  wrote 
or  wrought,  be  it  in  pigments  or  in  flowers,  spelled 
but  one  word  —  the  Ghost. 

While  thus  thinking,  Miriam's  step  broke  the 
stillness,  and  she  entered,  with  a  lamp,  from  the 
chiller  air,  trailing  her  gown  behind  her,  the 
plume  of  her  riding-cap  —  a  branch  of  the  scarlet 
berries  still  clinging  to  it  —  mingling  with  her 
hair,  and  her  face  reflecting  the  brilliance  of  the 
scene. 

"  Mr.  Redruth  told  me  I  should  find  my  ama- 
ryllis  here  to-night,"  she  said,  bringing  the  frosty, 
out-door  smell  with  her.  "  I  had  nearly  forgot- 
ten. Where  do  you  think  he  has  put  it  ?  Among 
the  lilies  ?  "  and  seeking  it,  she  walked  slowly  for- 
ward. 

"Do  you  see  the  cereus?"  she  asked,  at  a  dis- 
tance, in  a  blaze  of  exultation.  "  It  is  a  midnight 
sun,  a  whole  constellation  rather.  And  0,  Sir  Ro- 
han !  the  century  is  capped,  the  agave  is  blown !  " 

Turning  slowly  with  the  uplifted  lamp,  her  eye 
fell,  the  sparkle  faded,  her  face  grew  pale  again 
and  borrowed  the  quiet  beneath  it. 

"  But  what  is  this  ?  "  she  cried  through  sudden 
tears. 


316  SIR  ROHAN'S  GHOST. 

Coming  for  her  amaryllis,  she  had  found  the 
Lily  of  Annunciation.  For  the  light  fell  upon  Red- 
ruth  silent  as  a  stone,  the  white  hair  waving  round 
his  brow  scarcely  less  gray,  by  contrast  stiller; 
the  hand  hanging  over  the  chair,  still  grasping  the 
stem  of  his  glass,  while  the  bowl  lay  shattered  on 
the  floor ;  the  face  open-eyed,  shrunken,  and  up- 
turned with  the  mute,  patient  appeal  of  the  dead ; 
the  alabaster  rase  still  there,  the  flame  within 
burned  out ;  and  the  whole  cold  figure  bathed  in 
the  richest  odors  of  the  world's  bright  belt,  the 
breath  of  tangled  jungle,  brake,  and  forest,  and 
wrapped  in  all  the  gorgeous  beauty  of  the  tropics. 


XIX. 

THE    FACE    IN    THE    FLASH. 

A  WEEK  crept  through  the  hushed  house, 
and  the  funeral  of  Mr.  Redruth  was  held 
with  every  honor,  a  provision  settled  upon  his 
widow,  and  his  son  installed  in  his  place. 
Shocked,  but  not  deeply  touched,  —  which  would 
have  been  improbable,  —  Miriam's  elastic  spirits 
soon  regained  their  equilibrium,  and  she  employed 
herself  to  divert  Sir  Rohan's  mind,  and  dissipate 
the  shadow.  She  was  yet  too  young  and  free  to 
own  the  harvests  of  sorrow ;  nor  did  she  know,  if 
this  had  been  a  sorrow  admitting  such  end,  how 
to  follow  in  the  wild,  and  lead  up  to  clearer 
heights;  she  would  seek,  instead,  to  bring  one 
where  he  stood  before.  But  Sir  Rohan  needed 
little  of  either  treatment. 

It  had  been  scarcely  affection  so  much  as  cus- 
tom that  bound  him  to  the  old  steward,  and  one 

27* 


318  SIR  ROHAN'S  GHOST. 

shrinks  at  the  sudden  sundering  of  any  tie.  With 
all  his  love  for  his  master,  Redruth  had  never 
been  able  to  endear  himself  sufficiently  to  produce 
a  real  grief  at  his  loss ;  for  through  fear  of  offence, 
he  had  refused  those  opportunities  which,  well 
used,  would  have  been  friendship.  The  quality 
we  call  moral  courage  is  necessary  to  finished  suc- 
cess, and  poor  Redruth's  life  had  been  a  failure. 
Still  Sir  Rohan  felt  that  he,  also,  had  owed  a  duty 
which  he  had  rejected,  and  he  hoped,  proportion- 
ately with  that  neglect,  to  meet  his  responsibility 
for  the  next.  He  was  moved  by  the  old  man's 
affection  and  sincerity,  no  less  than  by  his  weak- 
ness, and  he  knew  it  would  have  been  monstrous 
for  him  to  blame  a  living  being.  Thus  it  did  not 
take  long  to  heal  the  wound,  and  having  been 
much  delayed,  the  time  was  once  more  appointed 
for  their  departure.  St.  Denys  assisted  his  friend 
in  such  instruction  as  the  new  steward  required, 
and  again  the  hours  slipped  by  too  happily  for 
counting,  each  one  like  a  drop  from  the  fabled 
elixir  of  life. 

One  only  discord  jarred  upon  this  period.  At 
the  close  of  a  certain  day  which  had  fled,  like  the 
days  of  the  Blessed  Gods,  on  the  vans  of  inextin- 


THE  FACE  IN  THE  FLASH.       319 

guishable  laughter,  a  milder  mood  fell,  one  of  deep 
quiet  and  satisfaction.  A  perfect  space  where 
each,  aware  of  the  great  love  in  cither's  thought, 
preserves  silence  regarding  it,  and  glances  only  on 
indifferent  things.  Sir  Rohan  stood  at  an  open 
casement,  folding  Miriam  in  his  arms,  and  saying 
little  where  a  lingering  kiss  or  closer  pressure 
brimmed  the  lapse  of  happy  thought.  He  did  not 
dream  of  the  surrender  St.  Denys  had  made  in 
giving  her  to  him.  She  was  all  his  own.  The 
past  lay  veiled  and  blank  behind  him,  to  be  re- 
deemed by  a  future  that  could  multiply  nothing 
but  virtue  ;  with  such  blessedness,  the  seed  of  that 
future,  into  what  blossom  would  it  burst ! 

A  dry  thunder-cloud  had  swept  over  the  sky, 
and  still  tinged  with  the  vanished  light,  was  loftily 
heaping  its  cyclopean  cumuli  in  the  likeness  of 
rolling  petals,  as  if  assuming  shape  from  some 
huge  magnolia  growing  unseen  in  the  lost  Atlan- 
tis. In  its  base  silent  lightnings  pavilioned  them- 
selves, now  and  then  leaping  to  earth  with  a  rosy 
flare,  and  giving  to  all  things,  as  the  night  grew 
deeper,  a  somewhat  weird  semblance. 

Remaining  thus,  Sir  Rohan  remembered  the 
sudden  consternation  that  smote  him  when  first  he 


320  SIR  ROHAN'S  GHOST. 

knew  of  the  Ghost ;  the  awe  and  heavy  fear,  anni- 
hilating doubt  and  following  him  like  a  second 
shadow ;  the  stolidity  in  which  he  steeled  himself 
till  the  edge  of  his  terrors  was  blunted  thereat ;  the 
keen  watchfulness  of  intervening  years  harassed 
by  her  influence  that  bred  only  a  ceaseless  pain 
which  he  learned  to  endure  ;  the  frantic  spasms  of 
that  season  which  had  fevered  him.  He  remem- 
bered all  those  hours,  and  compared  them  with  this 
where  he  stood  calm  and  whole,  throbbing  only 
with  joy,  and  possessing  the  cordial  of  his  trans- 
udation,  sovereign,  sweet,  and  inexhaustible.  He 
wondered  if  without  the  past  he  could  have  meas- 
ured the  present ;  he  chafed  only  that  these  mo- 
ments were  not  immortal,  or  that  together  they 
might  not  slip  the  knot  of  life  and  wander  free 
through  fields  of  eternity  too  narrow  to  drain 
such  love. 

In  the  swift  gleams  he  looked  down  at  Miriam, 
her  face  on  his  arm,  her  lids  fallen,  glowing, 
dreaming,  smiling,  finding  heaven  with  him  as  he 
with  her ;  and  in  a  stiller,  intenser  love  he  bent 
above  her  till  she  raised  the  languid  splendor  of 
her  eyes  and  returned  that  passionate  inspection. 

Other  flashes  shot  across  them  there,  but  if  the 


THE  FACE  IN  THE  FLASH.       321 

sky  had  shrivelled  up,  so  that  it  left  these  two  they 
would  have  been  regardless  ;  and  Miriam  in  Sir 
Rohan's  embrace  at  the  open  casement,  her  eyes 
dropping  in  the  old  bewitching  way  as  the  long 
succeeding  kiss  died  into  peace,  did  not  see  the 
object  that,  when  Sir  Rohan  raised  his  head,  in  a 
more  vivid  sheet  struck  his  sight  and  faded  in  the 
darkness  rushing  back.  It  was  the  head  and 
shoulders  of  a  man  leaning  one  arm  upon  a  horse's 
neck,  and  turned  toward  them.  Was  it  some 
nightmare,  or  one  of  those  allies  of  the  Ghost,  man 
and  beast,  staring  at  him  out  of  the  shadow  ? 
Was  it  that  eldritch  vision  of  Marc  Arundel,  that 
had  so  persecuted  him  with  her  other  malicious 
enginery  ?  Or  was  it  the  real  face  of  Marc  Arun- 
del, white  and  ghastly  in  the  lightning,  and  full  of 
rancorous  hate  ? 

Whatever  it  might  have  been,  it  was  withdrawn 
at  the  next  flash ;  but  notwithstanding,  Sir  Rohan's 
tranquillity  was  at  an  end, — swimming  in  a  sea  of 
rapture,  he  had  suddenly  touched  shore. 

But  when  morning  again  poured  light  into 
night,  and  Miriam  met  him,  fresh  and  gay  as  a 
new  creation,  he  forgot  the  face  and  its  terrors, 
and  again  relinquished  himself  to  the  spell. 


322 


A  flock  of  pigeons — mufflers,  rufflers,  fantails, 
and  tumblers  —  came  fluttering  and  pitchpoling 
down  from  the  roofs  and  gables  into  the  old  gar- 
den, catching  the  sunshine  in  a  thousand  dainty 
irises,  while  they  were  at  breakfast. 

"  Paphiaii  doves  ?  "  asked  St.  Denys  mischiev- 
ously, tossing  them  some  crumbs. 

"And  so  you  must  have  your  fling  at  them  !  " 
retorted  Miriam. 

"  At  them  ?  By  no  means.  They  don't  do  all 
the  billing  and  cooing  in  the  house." 

"  A  noise  that  annoys  some  folks." 

"  Love  is  so  pathetic  to  a  third,  you  find,  St. 
Denys." 

"  Especially  to  a  minor  third,"  assented  St. 
Denys. 

"  Not  so  pathetic  as  sympathetic,"  Miriam  sub- 
joined. "  I  tremble  lest  your  example  incite 
papa  to  match  it." 

"0  no,"  said  St.  Denys.  "I'm  content  to 
match  you." 

"  How  brilliant  you  are  ! "  said  Sir  Rohan. 
"  Have  you  drugged  the  coffee  ?  " 

"  Your  untouched  cup  looks  as  if  it  were  a 
drug.  No  -,  but  I  made  it !  There,  papa,  poor 


THE  FACE  IN  THE  FLASH.       323 

man,  that  caps  the  climax  !  Shrug  your  shoulder 
and  remember  nature's  not  to  be  conquered;  vines 
that  twist  from  right  to  left  can't  be  made  to  twist 
from  left  to  right.  The  duckling  takes  to  water,  — 
or,  what  is  worse,  coffee,  —  and  the  pursuer  takes 
a  ducking !  " 

"  Miriam,  have  some  mercy  !  "  answered  the 
horrified  listener.  "  You  grow  worse  as  you  grow 
older." 

"  And  you  don't  fancy  my  bad-iii-age  !  I  shall 
make  a  gooseberry  fool  next,  or  put  my  ill-breed- 
ing into  a  tart,  that  I  may  be  reproved  accord- 
ingly." 

"  Certainly,  I  have  spoiled  you." 

"  Which  is  not  my  treatment  of  the  coffee.  I 
wanted  some  cafS  noir,  and,  besides,  Sir  Rohan 
takes  no  breakfast,  and  who  knows  the  magical 
effects  of  the  potent  berry  ?  Confess  that  it 
needed  oriental  hands  to  brew,  and  an  acquaint- 
ance with  continental  kitchens  prior  to  one  with 
Mrs.  Redruth's.  All  a  part  of  my  gypsydom.  Ah, 
you  should  have  taken  better  care  of  me  ;  here  I 
graduate,  a  cook.  But  why  should  n't  one  make 
nectar  ?  Look  at  this  clear  stream,  pactolian,  yel- 
low as  amber  and  aromatic  as  Arabia !  " 


324  SIR  ROHAN'S  GHOST. 

"  Aurum  potabile,"  annotated  Sir  Rohan. 

"  Translated  shabbily,  for  euphony,  gold  makes 
the  pot  boil.  I  've  heard  now  of  old  ladies  put- 
ting brandy  or  rum  into  their  tea,  but  never  into 
coffee." 

"  0,"  groaned  St.  Denys.  "  Must  I  repeat 
every  day  how  vulgar  it  is  —  " 

"  Well  ?     How  vulgarities  what  ?  " 

"  Incorrigible  child  !  "  said  Sir  Rohan.  "  No- 
body less  severe  than  a  pundit  from  the  Punjaub 
will  punish  you  properly  for  making  such  a  Pun- 
chinello of  yourself." 

"  Et  tu  Brute  !  "  she  returned,  poising  her  fra- 
grant cup. 

"  Similia  similibus." 

"  And  have  you  come  over  into  Macedonia  ? 
But  with  what  a  philippic  !  A  conjunction  which 
calls  to  mind  Philippi,  which  calls  to  mind  the 
ghost  that  came  to  Brutus,  which  calls  to  mind, 
like  a  chapter  in  Numbers,  a  little  odd  dream  I 
dreamed  last  night,  papa.  I  thought  I  was  stand- 
ing at  a  window,  being  as  small  as  children  are 
when  they  cry  for  the  moon,  and  looking  up  I  was 
trying  to  make  out  the  face  in  its  desolate  circle, 
when  very  clearly  and  distinctly  it  became  Marc's ; 


THE  FACE  IN  THE  FLASH.       325 

upon  which  I  was  frightened,  and  after  the  absurd 
conduct  of  dreams  tried  to  get  down,  nobody 
knowing  how  I  got  up,  wherewith  he  began  to 
sing,  —  the  idea,  now,  of  Marc's  singing  !  —  sing 
the  last  line  of  that  little  Kentish  song  I  used  to 
go  to  sleep  by,  — 

'  Wait  till  I  come  to  thee ! ' 

And  I  woke  up  with  the  great  silent  flash  skim- 
ming over  the  sky  from  some  distant  ship's  gun, 
I  suppose,  hailing  a  pilot  for  the  channel,  or  some- 
thing. But  was  n't  it  hateful  ?  " 

"  Yery.  Biit  the  moon  is  made  of  green  cheese, 
you  know,  which  produces  indigestion,  which  pro- 
duces nightmare,  after  your  manner  of  induction 
and  a  certain  luncheon  of  yestreen." 

"  Dear  me,  papa,  I  don't  know  whose  quibbles 
are  worse." 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do,  child  ?  What  is  that 
basket  for,  and  those  napkins  ?  and  are  you  the 
whole  commissariat  for  an  army,  with  such  a  bat- 
tery of  bread  and  butter ;  or  playing  Charlotte  to 
nobody's  Werter  ?  " 

"  My  amazed  papa,  what  an  inquiring  disposi- 
tion !  How  am  I  to  answer  such  a  mouthful  of 

28 


326 


questions  ?  Did  you  ever  hear  of  a  picnic  ?  but 
off  at  Abbey  ruins,  or  mineral  springs,  or  ultra- 
montane forests  ?  Well,  I  —  I,  too,  shall  have  a 
picnic,  to-day ;  but  at  lesser  ruins,  —  a  fete  cham- 
petre  under  aged  lichen-painted  walls,  at  the  foot 
of  this  dear  old  garden ;  by  the  choked  spring  that 
gurgles  and  sputters  and  sings  and  frolics  to  itself, 
whose  water  drunk  from  hollow  leaves  shall  afford 
us  infinite  hilarity ;  and  you  and  Sir  Rohan  are 
to  be  my  guests,  and  I  accept  no  excuse,  and  your 
only  roof  is  to  be  blue  sky  till  said  roof  is  gray 
as  twilight,  and  we  will  make  one  veritable  long 
Autumn  day  too  short  to  hold  us.  Here  is  the 
first  chicken  that  peeped  in  May,  —  he  plays  Wer- 
ter  well  enough  ;  —  and  here  is  the  tart  I  spoke 
of;  and  here  is  a  bottle  of  poison  for  you,  and  one 
of  cream  for  me  ;  and  see  these  brown  pears, 
which  Midas  rex  has  fingered,  and  these  Hamburg 
grapes,  great  Cleopatrian  pearls  and  amethysts. 
Come  ! 

The  sweet  sad  autumn  days  will  we 

Make  gay  with  blithe  carousin', 
Till  Mirth's  most  merry  companie 

Shall  seek  our  hearts  to  house  in  ! " 

And  therewith,  to  roulade  and  capriccio,  the 


THE  FACE  IN  THE  FLASH.       327 

imperious  Miss  Miriam  swept  the  helpless  gentle- 
men through  the  casement  whose  threshold  re- 
mained uncrossed  till  sunset,  while  every  now 
and  then  chimes  of  gayest  laughter  and  snatches 
of  sweetest  singing  pealed  hurriedly  up  the  alleys 
and  startled  the  pale  chrysanthemums  and  wither- 
ing autumn  flowers  on  their  sad  stems ;  uncared-for 
rusty  blossoms,  wan  and  rapt  as  a  Greek  chorus, 
who  looked  at  each  other  with  melancholy  sur- 
prise and  then  drooped  heavily  again,  as  if  they 
were  long  ago  in  the  secret,  and  refused  to  listen 
to  this  last  artifice  of  fate,  the  echo  of  a  fragmen- 
tary happiness  as  brief  as  shallow. 


XX. 

THE    CLANG    OF    HOOFS. 

AT  length  their  stay  drew  toward  its  close ; 
the  last  day  was  fading,  and  Sir  Rohan,  hav- 
ing given  his  final  orders,  was  idly  pacing  the 
hall,  and  longing  for  Miriam.  He  had  no  impa- 
tience now,  for  every  hour  answered  to  itself,  too 
full  of  happiness  to  be  hastened. 

Miriam,  whose  voice  woke  the  morning,  carol- 
ling from  her  open  window,  and  every  now  and 
then  filled  the  dreary  walls  again  with  a  glad 
purling,  came  singing  down  the  stairs ;  and  then, 
hanging  on  his  arm  as  he  continued  his  walk, 
finished  the  strain. 

Somewhere  the  long  grass  over  lonely  graves 

Sobs  in  the  rain. 
Somewhere  the  wild  wind  vainly  o'er  them  raves 

Who  cease  from  pain. 
Somewhere,  thro'  weary  years,  one  weeps,  whose  salt  slow  tears 

Fall  for  refrain. 


THE    CLANG    OF    HOOFS.  329 

"  I  wonder,"  she  said,  after  a  moment's  si- 
lence, "  why  always,  when  we  are  happiest,  we 
choose  the  saddest  songs." 

"  Perhaps,"  he  replied,  "  to  forestall  calamity ; 
to  deceive  Fate  with  a  counterfeit." 

"For  a  charm  against  Sorrow,  you  mean?" 

"  Sorrow !  Sorrow  !  My  darling,  forget  there 
is  such  a  word ! " 

"  You  will  never  let  me  feel  it,"  she  responded. 

"  The  wind  shall  not  blow  upon  you ! "  he 
said,  with  fervency,  followed  by  a  laugh. 

"  And  you  take  the  windward  side,  Ungal- 
lant?  No,  no,"  she  added,  "if  they  were 
charms,  all  people  might  be  gay,  since  who 
could  n't  string  a  necklace  of  such  amulets  ? 
I  am  more  inclined  to  fancy  my  happiness  a 
cuckoo  who  pushes  the  sad  little  songs  from 
the  nest." 

"  Vile  comparison  !     Is  it  so  false  and  fickle  ?  " 

"  That,  sir,  will  be  as  you  please." 

"  Ah,  sweet !  "  he  said.  "  You  know  there  is 
no  heaven  too  high  for  me  to  sphere  you  there. 
That  is,  provided  one  had  the  ordering  of  the 
planets." 

"  Thank  you,  but  earth  is  very  well.     Do  you 

28* 


330  SIR  ROHAN'S  GHOST. 

know,  Sir  Rohan,"  she  continued,  naively,  "I 
think  you  love  me  too  much." 

"Miriam!" 

"  Yes.  There  !  there  !  Don't  look  at  me  so  ! 
"Was  I  very  wrong  to  say  it  ?  " 

"  The  Easterns  worshipped  the  sun,  source  of 
fire,  scatterer  of  night.  Haven't  I  good  prece- 
dent for  my  adoration  ?  " 

"  But  I  mean  that  if  I  should  die,  I  think  you 
would  die  too." 

"Why  not?" 

"  My  dear !  What  do  I  wear  this  crown  of 
laurel  for  ?  " 

"  Because  you  are  a  Queen,  perhaps." 

"  Not  at  all.  Because  when  my  Love  returns 
to  his  Art,  I  believe  he  wreathes  himself  with 
the  same  immortal  boughs;  but  should  he  die, 
what  laurel  for  him?" 

"He  would  not  need  it  then." 

"  One  takes  such  even  into  death." 

"How  sweet  a  scent  your  crown  has,  when 
bruised ! " 

"It  is  poison,  nevertheless,"  she  rejoined. 

"Why  wear  it,  then?" 

"  Why  ?  —  For  an  emblem.  There  is  poison  in 
so  strong  love." 


THE    CLANG    OF    HOOFS.  331 

"  Your  lecture  is  charming,  your  lips  perfect. 
You  may  convert  a  Pariah,  but  never  a  Brahmin, 
never  a  High-Priest.  Miriam,  should  you  leave 
me,  my  love  would  grow  praying  for  your  return, 
and  every  word  you  speak  makes  you  dearer ! " 

"I  see,"  she  exclaimed,  as  they  entered  the 
drawing-room,  and  sat  together  by  St.  Denys, 
"I  see,  clearly,  my  authority  is  to  be  absolute. 
So  I  enjoin  my  first  behest." 

"Yes,  Miriam.  Give  me  a  command,"  he 
said,  bending  forward  with  his  eyes  upon  her. 

"You  are  never,  never,"  she  replied,  archly, 
holding  her  finger  before  him,  "  to  paint  when  I 
am  away ! " 

"  Bathos,  pathos,  and  immutable  as  Athos,"  he 
interposed. 

"  No  !  that 's  too  much,"  she  continued,  heedless 
of  the  remark.  "  We  '11  add  a  codicil  to  our  will ; 
not  for  a  long,  long  while,  that  is.  You  shall 
dream  no  more  dreams." 

"Jealous  ?" 

"  Not  I,"  she  said,  with  a  melodramatic  air. 
"  I  scorn  it.  I  '11  be  jealous  of  a  real  rival." 

"  A  woman's  love,  sir,  is  an  absorption,"  said 
St.  Denys,  glancing  over  his  paper.  "  A  sponge, 


332  SIR  ROHAN'S  GHOST. 

you  must  learn,  that  wipes  out  every  one  else. 
Her  love  is  to  have  no  one  loved  but  herself." 

"  0  papa,  what  a  libel !  It  must  be  one's  self, 
and  not  one's  lover,  one  loves  when  jealous." 

"  Right,  little  dame !  I  see,  Rohan,  by  the 
news,  Arundel  contests  his  borough.  What 
next  ?  " 

"  Perfect  love,"  said  Miriam,  still  meditating, 
"  implies  perfect  trust.  And  we  have  that,  dear," 
she  whispered. 

Sir  Rohan  did  not  reply,  but  always  clasping 
her,  remained  in  thought.  Slowly  again  his  eyes 
re-sought  hers,  the  fond  exulting  smile  wreathing 
his  lips  as  he  felt  the  quickening  throbs  of  her 
heart  at  his  returning  gaze. 

"  It  is  a  singular  thing,  this  joy,"  said  he.  "  It 
makes  me  tremble ;  it  seems  unnatural.  I  have 
heard  of  people  of  great  faith  as  suddenly  feeling 
their  spirituality  wonderfully  increased,  and  of 
others  w^ho  experienced  unaccountable  mirthful- 
ness,  or  happiness,  or  strength.  But  Death  or 
some  great  suffering  always  supervened,"  he  added 
with  a  shudder. 

"  I  wonder  why,"  said  Miriam. 

"  Perhaps  the  soul,"  said  St.   Denys,  "  always 


THE    CLANG    OF    HOOFS.  333 

goes  a  little  faster  than  life,  a  little  beyond  the 
fact;  and  so,  having  beat  out  and  reached  its 
mortal  bars,  surges  back  and  flows  with  a  double 
current  over  the  mood  of  the  hour." 

The  light  was  slowly  dying,  and  they  fell  into 
silence,  the  delicious  silence  of  passion,  more  afflu- 
ent than  endearments.  It  was  only  broken  by  the 
distant  clang  of  hoofs. 

At  first  far  off,  the  quick  sharp  strokes  struck 
nearer  and  nearer,  like  a  clock  measuring  off  the 
time.  Here  they  clattered  over  a  stony  cause- 
way, and  now  were  muffled  intermittently  as  the 
flail  of  a  thresher.  On  the  soft  soil  of  the  avenue 
the  sound  ferried  the  silence,  like  the  fleet  dip  of 
an  oar  against  the  thole.  They  all  sat  listening, 
while  it  broke  their  dream  ;  each  beat  fell  distinct 
as  a  knell,  and  no  one  stirred  till  it  was  close  upon 
them. 

"  It  is  Arundel,"  said  Miriam  then,  starting  to 
her  feet.  "  I  don't  want  to  see  him !  Papa,  do 
you  mind  entertaining  him  ?  And  we  will  go 
out  through  the  dining-room  into  that  garden.  I 
like  that  dim  old  garden,  and  the  night  begins  to 
fall." 

"  Don't  keep  Sir  Rohan  out  too  long,"  returned 


334  SIR  ROHAN'S  GHOST. 

St.  Denys,  as  she  was  disappearing.  "  Remember 
he  still  needs  strength,  Marc  says." 

Sir  Rohan  hesitated  a  moment.  A  singular 
idea  of  honor  had  restrained  him  from  mentioning 
Arundel's  murderous  attempt,  and  this  was  leav- 
ing St.  Denys  at  his  mercy. 

"  You  are  apprehensive  of  mischief?  "  asked  St. 
Denys.  "  You  are  Marc's  neighbor,  know  his 
tricks,  and  would  put  me  on  my  guard  ?  Miriam 
told  you,  I  believe,  of  some  game  presented  us 
the  morning  we  left  here.  That  was  well  enough, 
had  it  not  been  bagged  in  the  wood,  while  the  shot 
pierced  my  coach,  —  an  impossible  way  of  killing 
two  birds  with  one  stone.  He  was  as  much  sur- 
prised as  anybody,  probably.  Don't  fear  for  me, 
Rohan :  I  can  take  care  of  Marc  ;  he  is  poor  ma- 
terial for  a  villain.  Besides  he  may  have  some 
business  with  me  relative  to  Miriam ;  he  has 
hinted  as  much." 

Miriam  ran  back  at  Sir  Rohan's  delay. 

"  Papa,  is  it  too  cruel  to  tire  you  with  staying 
here  alone  ?  "  she  said,  putting  her  arms  round 
his  neck,  and  hiding  her  blushing  cheek.  "  But 
I  can't  help  showing  him  how  happy  I  am,  and  I 
would  hardly  like  to,  you  know." 


THE    CLANG    OF    HOOFS.  335 

He  parted  her  dropping  hair,  and  raising  the 
head,  gently  kissed  her  forehead  before  she  danced 
away  again. 

In  after  life,  when  Miriam,  free  from  the  rapid 
vehement  tumult  of  her  youth,  led  St.  Denys  down 
the  slopes  of  a  calm  old  age,  in  a  world  of  quiet 
peace  where  neither  old  sorrows  nor  future  joys 
obtruded,  she  was  glad  that  on  this  night,  in  the 
midst  of  her  delights,  at  the  high  tide  of  her  hap- 
piness, she  had  not  forgotten  him. 


XXI. 

THE  GHOST. 

IT  was  nearly  two  hours  later,  when  Miriam 
and  Sir  Rohan  approached  the  house  from 
the  shore  and  paused  at  the  foot  of  the  lawn, 
near  the  white  camellia-bush  where  he  had  seen 
her  crowned  with  azalias.  As  they  left  the 
strand,  a  dun  glare  shone  upon  the  wild  sky, 
and  the  waves,  so  shortly  since  gray  and  dimly 
foam-capped,  tossed  like  fanged  serpents  in  the 
fiery  light  of  their  enchantress  who,  gathering 
as  a  magnet  great  vapors  round  her,  rolled 
veiled  and  angry,  her  glimmering  rack  up  the 
great  obscurity. 

They  paused  now,  because  Arundel  was  leav- 
ing the  door.  He  observed  them,  however,  and 
drew  near,  with  an  extinguished  cigar  in  his 
hand. 

If  a  voice  had  whispered  by  his  ear,  "  Be  still. 


THE    GHOST.  337 

Do  not  murder  pity ;  do  not  destroy  remembrance. 
Take  mercy  for  a  staff.  You  hate  him?  But 
see !  that  swift  blood  ebbs  in  hectics  ;  these  frosts 
work  like  fire ;  he  is  weaker  to-day  than  yester- 
day ;  his  disease  consumes  him  surely ;  this  de- 
ceitful decline  delivers  him  to  death.  Can  you 
not  suffer  Miriam  to  mourn  a  lover  ?  Must  you 
needs  poison  grief;  make  tears  a  sin;  turn  joy 
to  disgust;  stab  the  memory  of  love?  Take 
mercy,  —  you  are  free  so  soon  —  "  Had  such  a 
voice  whispered,  it  would  have  been  hushed  in 
the  imperious  "  Speak  now !  "  of  his  will ;  because 
the  last  was  destiny. 

"  I  have  been  giving  St.  Denys  the  heads  of 
that  story  I  promised  you,  Miss  Miriam,"  said 
he,  after  wishing  them  good  evening.  "And,  if 
you  like,  you  shall  have  it  as  well,  since  I  may 
not  be  able  to  come  again  immediately." 

Miriam  glanced  at  Sir  Rohan  to  see  if  he  were 
protected  from  the  damp.  But  he  wore  a  cloak, 
and  it  was  not  a  cold  evening. 

"  Go  on,"  she  replied,  with  a  nod.  "  We  at- 
tend." 

"  It 's  not  a  long  story,"  he  said,  walking  to 
and  fro  before  them.  "  0,  by  the  way !  Some 

29  v 


338 


time  since,  it  occurred  to  me  I  might  be  of  ser- 
vice to  you  in  the  line  of  my  profession,  by  elu- 
cidating your  mystery,  Miss  Miriam,  if  I  had  any 
clew.  I  intimated  as  much  to  St.  Denys,  who 
asked  you  what  was  that  last  whisper  of  your  old 
nurse.  And  you  said,  he  tells  me  —  " 

"  That  the  ring  my  dying  mother  wore  was 
hid  beneath  the  seventh  stone  in  the  court-yard 
of  the  Tower,"  Miriam  replied  quickly,  not  choos- 
ing to  hear  the  words  from  him. 

"  Exactly  so.  That  the  ring  your  mother  wore, 
when  dying,  was  buried  in  a  book  beneath  the 
seventh  stone  from  the  gateway  of  the  Tower. 
I  wished  to  ascertain  if  I  were  quite  correct. 
However,  that's  not  my  story. 

"  You  must  know,"  continued  Arundel,  stoop- 
ing to  pluck  a  blade  of  grass,  "  that  the  way  in 
which  I  learned  these  facts  —  for  they  are  true, 
Miss  Miriam  —  has  in  it  some  dash  of  the  super- 
natural. I  first  received  a  suspicion  from  certain 
ways  and  actions  of  a  person  whom  I  met;  and 
putting  together  one  thing  and  another,  —  remem- 
bering old  county  scandal ;  questioning  somebody 
who  had  reason  to  be  acquainted  with  the  matter ; 
detecting  a  likeness ;  and  as  I  became  more  in- 


THE    GHOST.  339 

terested,  visiting  the  various  localities  and  obtain- 
ing further  and  satisfactory  information  from  the 
original  sources,  —  I  soon  made  out  a  complete 
case.  But  through  it  all,  I  have  felt  as  if  some 
one  were  directing  me  ;  the  right  thing  turned  up 
at  the  right  time,  so  that  not  a  moment  has  been 
lost,  and  I  could  almost  swear  that  I  have  been 
assisted  by  some  extraordinary  and  inexplicable 
agency." 

"  0,  charming,"  said  Miriam,  "  a  ghost  in  it !  " 
"  Well,  to  begin.     It  appears  that  several  years 
ago,  —  before  you  were  born,   and  I  was  but  a 
child  myself,  —  two  boys  left  school  for  the  Uni- 
versity.    No  matter  for  dates  or  names,  just  yet ; 

—  facts  hold  good  for  John  as  for  Peter.     They 
were  warm  friends,  notwithstanding  a  slight  dif- 
ference in  their  years ;  for  one,  the  elder  was  a 
quiet  cheerful  boy,  and  was   attracted,  perhaps, 
by   the   recklessness   and  brilliance  of  the  other. 
This  other  had  a  species  of  heroism  about  him, 

—  so  it  was  called,  —  a  flashing,  uncertain  element, 
but  no  more   resembling   the   real  thing  than  a 
will-o'-the-wisp  resembles  that  solid  red  heart  of 
a  burning  back-log.     That  is  to  say,  he  would  go 
through  fire  and  water  to  do  some  famous  deed, 


340 


but  I  doubt  much  if  he  'd  have  held  an  umbrella 
over  an  old  woman  with  a  shabby  bonnet.  Posi- 
tively, I  think  he  was  a  sorry  fellow.  However, 
the  bigger  boy  saved  him  many  a  flogging,  and  he, 
in  return,  rendered  him  some  important  service, 
besides  correcting  his  Greek  exercises  and  writ- 
ing his  Latin  verses.  And  so,  fast  friends,  they 
left,  as  I  said,  for  the  University.  The  younger 
had  been  an  orphan  two  or  three  years  when  they 
took  their  degrees,  and  the  other  was  now,  also,  to 
receive  possession  of  his  estate  ;  to  which,  accord- 
ingly, having  been  put  through  the  mill,  they  went 
down  together ;  and  in  the  press  of  business  that 
met  the  heir,  it  is  not  at  all  strange  that  he  was 
obliged  to  leave  his  friend  much  alone. 

"  One  of  the  tenants  on  this  estate  was  a 
woman  between  fifty  and  sixty  in  age,  who  held  a 
tolerably  good  reputation,  though  more  than  once 
accused  of  too  great  intimacy  with  the  gypsies  and 
strolling  women ;  some  thought  she  had  come  out 
from  them.  Still  she  was  honest,  and  paid  her 
rent,  but  had  not  much  to  say  to  her  neighbors, 
who  called  her,  on  the  whole,  odd.  She  was  a 
widow,  and  lived  alone  with  a  grand-daughter,  a 
pretty  girl,  —  no,  something  more  than  pretty,  — 


THE    GHOST.  341 

far  too  elegant  and  graceful  for  the  peasants  she 
herded  with.  Wandering  round  the  region,  in 
the  absences  of  the  other,  the  younger  friend,  as 
may  be  supposed,  frequently  met  this  girl.  He 
was  a  likely-looking  youth  himself,  —  was  rich, 
and  a  gentleman.  She  was  beautiful,  impassioned, 
yielding,  — in  short,  they  fell  in  love.  Finally,  the 
gentleman  drew  his  visit  to  a  close,  left  his  unsus- 
pecting friend,  returned  home  for  a  day  or  two, 
and  then  went  to  a  place  he  had  in  quite  another 
part  of  the  country. 

"  At  the  same  time,  the  girl  disappeared.  Her 
grandmother  concealed  her  surprise,  and  gave  out 
that  she  was  visiting  in  a  distant  town.  Nobody 
believed  her,  but  then  nobody  said  so.  Yet  when 
the  gentleman  entered  his  residence  at  the  North, 
he  was  accompanied  by  a  lady,  who  has  been 
described  to  me  as  the  sweetest  impersonation  of 
beauty  that  ever  crossed  threshold.  She  was 
dressed,  I  am  told,  with  great  richness,  and  wore 
her  splendor  as  an  inheritance,  but  scarcely 
seemed  to  be  his  wife.  They  held  no  communica- 
tion with  any  one,  employed  only  such  servants  as 
were  indispensable,  and  were  totally  wrapped  in 
the  pleasure  of  each  other;  they  were  never 

29* 


342  SIR  ROMAN'S  GHOST. 

found  apart,  and  appeared  to  be  insensible  of  the 
existence  of  others.  Sometimes  in  a  skiff  they 
were  seen  rowing  up  the  stream ;  sometimes  the 
farmer  heard  a  rash  bold  galloping,  and  they 
dashed  by  like  a  flash,  with  their  gay  laughs  chas- 
ing behind ;  sometimes,  by  moon  or  star-light, 
they  climbed  the  old  Tower  together  and  watched 
the  prospect.  It  was  a  life  of  rich  merriment  and 
exultation,  that,  half  repressed,  burst  into  bright 
coruscations  fanned  by  gusty  glee,  —  a  life  bathed 
with  delight  and  youth,  he  rejoicing  in  the  blaze 
of  her  beauty,  she  revelling  in  adoration.  I  hope 
I  'm  not  growing  sentimental,  Miss  Miriam." 

"You  speak  with  unction,  sir,"  she  replied. 
"  And  then  ?  " 

"  Why,  nothing  then,  or  soon.  The  sweetness 
cloyed.  From  a  passion,  I  believe,  the  lover  made 
it  a  study ;  but  the  intricate  psychology  baffled  or 
wearied,  —  he  became  indifferent.  They  were  met 
no  more  together;  he  rode  all  day  among  the 
hills,  alone  ;  she  was  seldom  seen  at  all.  Her 
beauty  began  to  fall  away,  —  eye  and  cheek  were 
hollow,  lips  were  pale.  But  latterly,  before  her 
unhappiness  began,  she  had  once  or  twice  spoken 
with  a  cottager;  the  little  children  tumbling  in 


THE    GHOST.  343 

her  path  had  received  a  smile,  already  somewhat 
sad ;  kind  donations,  constant  charities,  were  felt 
by  the  neighboring  poor.  Their  hearts  instinc- 
tively warmed  to  the  lady,  —  who  was  to  be  pitied 
if  happy,  how  much  more  if  not !  —  and  it  was  no 
great  while  before  the  keen  eyes  of  these  good  farm- 
women  detected  the  cause  of  her  change.  But 
one  evening,  at  about  this  time,  she  entered  the 
nearest  habitation,  and  asked  that  the  son  might 
be  allowed  to  go  to  a  distant  place  she  mentioned, 
with  a  certain  message,  and  she  gave  him  a  roll  of 
gold  pieces  to  deliver  and  pay  his  way.  They 
noticed  that  she  wore  but  one  ring,  a  brilliant 
thing,  on  the  hand  where  should  have  been  the 
marriage  ring.  Of  course  he  went  with  expedi- 
tion, and  when  he  returned  the  grandame  came 
with  him.  When  they  met,  said  my  informant, 
the  lady  only  fell  on  her  neck  and  wept,  and  went 
away  without  a  word.  Perhaps  she  hoped  to  re- 
gain her  fair  face  and  happiness  when  her  child 
was  born. 

"  So  time  went  on,  and  the  poor  lady  sat  sigh- 
ing her  youth  away  in  the  dark  room  of  the 
Tower.  You  are  cold,  Miss  Miriam?" 

Miriam  had  shivered  as  the  moon,  running  out 


344  SIR  ROHAN'S  GHOST. 

on  the  skirts  of  a  long  cloud,  sparkled  at  some 
glittering  object  Arundel  held. 

"  0  no,"  she  said.     "  Go  on." 

Her  hood  had  dropped  upon  her  shoulder ;  she 
stood  attending  with  a  pitying  air,  a  creature  all 
radiance,  and  bliss,  and  blushing  life,  turning 
every  now  and  then  her  flaming  eyes  and  tender 
smile  upon  Sir  Rohan. 

With  the  narration,  Sir  Rohan  had  more  than 
once  started  and  flung  away  her  hand,  but  as 
quickly  seized  it  again,  though  his  own  was  corpse- 
cold,  and  bent  his  burning  glance  on  her  alone, 
while  it  proceeded,  for  it  seemed  to  him  that  his 
Ghost  stood  victorious  with  her  hosts  behind  Arun- 
del. His  cap  had  fallen  back,  and  the  hair  upon 
his  brow  was  damp ;  his  cloak,  too,  was  hanging 
loosely,  but  in  bronze-like,  motionless  folds ;  his 
eyes  gleamed  like  caverns  poiiring  forth  floods  of 
light ;  his  face  grew  paler  at  every  breath  in  the 
flying  light  of  the  chill  November  moon.  And  as 
the  wild  palpitations  of  his  heart  died -out,  the 
shadow  of  a  statue  was  not  more  rigid  than  he. 

"  It  is  not  long,"  said  Arundel,  again. 

"  One  day  toward  sunset,  the  lover  came  into 
this  dark  room  where  the  wretched  lady  sat.  She 


THE    GHOST.  345 

had  been  looking  listlessly  at  the  illuminations  of 
a  manuscript,  which,  he  had  often  told  her,  a 
monk,  rather  given  to  poetry  than  more  orthodox 
scripture,  had  spent  his  lifetime  in  decorating. 
This  monk  had  been  a  contemporary  of  Spenser, 
and  an  ancestor  of  the  lover's ;  and  so  when, 
through  some  pique,  he  went  into  a  cloister  on  the 
continent,  he  had  taken  his  friend's  book  too.  I 
have  seen  it  since  myself,  Sir  Rohan.  A  curious 
thing:  on  one  side  of  the  parchment,  the  verses 
copied  fair,  in  garlands  of  flowers  and  leaves,  with 
bright-feathered  birds  among  the  vines ;  on  the 
other,  the  pictures,  in  Armenian  blue,  vermilion, 
and  gilding.  Here, — 

'  A  troupe  of  Faunes  and  Satyres  far  away 
Within  the  wood  were  dauncing  in  a  rownd.' 

"  There,  teaching  that  '  rude,  mishapen,  mon- 
strous rablement,'  the  fairest  Una  sat,  c  straunge 
lady,  in  so  straunge  habiliment.'  There,  too,  the 
image  of  that  man  of  hell,  that  calls  himself  De- 
spayre,  sitting  on  the  ground  of  his  dark,  dole- 
ful, dreary  den,  with  hollow  eyes  and  gaunt  cheeks 
half  hid  by  griesly  locks  ;  the  one  whose  subtile 
tongue  like  dropping  honey  melteth  into  the 


346  SIR  ROHAN'S  GHOST. 

heart,  you  know,  and  who  counsels  the  Red  Cross 
Knight :  — 

'  Is  not  short  payne  well  borne,  that  bringes  long  ease, 
And  layes  the  soule  to  sleepe  in  quiet  grave  ? 
Sleepe  after  toyle,  port  after  stormie  seas, 
Ease  after  warre,  death  after  life,  does  greatly  please,'  — 

the  Knight  listening  <  as  he  were  charmed  with  in- 
chaunted  rimes,'  while  the  carle  cries,  — 

'  Death  is  the  end  of  woes  :  Die  soone,  O  Faries  sonne  ! ' 

"  Again,  the  gateway  of  the  Bowre  of  Bliss,  — 

'  Archt  over  head  with  an  embracing  vine, 
Whose  bounches  hanging  downe  seemd  to  entice 
All  passers-by  to  taste  their  lushious  wine, 
And  did  themselves  into  their  hands  incline, 
As  freely  offering  to  be  gathered ; 
Some  deepe  empurpled  as  the  hyacine, 
Some  as  the  rubine  laughing  sweetely  red, 
Some  like  faire  emeraudes,  not  yet  well  ripened : 
And  them  emongst  some  were  of  burnisht  gold, 
So  made  by  art  to  beautify  the  rest, 
Which  did  themselves  emongst  the  leaves  enfold/ 

Or  yet  the  damsel  bathing  in  the  fountain,  as  she 
loosens  the  golden  knot  of  hair  over  ivory  should- 
ers, and 

'  Withall  she  laughed,  and  she  blusht  withall, 
That  blushing  to  her  laughter  gave  more  grace, 
And  laughter  to  her  blushing.' 


THE    GHOST.  347 

"  Here  the  face  of  Belphcebe  shone  out,  where 
'  upon  her  eyelids  many  graces  sate.'  And  yon- 
der, the  Masque  of  Cupid  fills  space  after  space 
with  splendid  emblazonry ;  and  still  further  on, 
Colin  Clout  ('Who  knows  not  Colin  Clout?') 
pipes  to  his  Lovely  Lass  circled  by  the 

'  Hundred  naked  maidens  lily  white 
All  raunged  in  a  ring,  and  dauncing  in  delight.' 

A  real  work  of  art,  Miss  Miriam,  though  strange 
tasks  for  a  monk.  I  have  given  it  to  St.  Denys." 

"  I  shall  see  it,  then.  But  what  has  this  book 
to  do  with  the  lady  ?  " 

"  I  had  quite  forgotten.  The  lady  had  it  in  her 
weary  hand,  but  was  not  thinking  of  it.  She  must 
have  been  a  sad  picture  herself,  with  her  heartache. 
Perhaps  he  remembered,  at  the  instant,  what  she 
was,  not  a  year  before,  and  contrasted  the  laugh- 
ing, joyous  siren  he  had  met,  with  the  sad  woman, 
faded  and  forlorn,  sacrificed  for  him.  So  he  spoke 
tenderly,  and  called  her  to  walk  by  the  river-bank 
on  which  the  Tower  stood.  She  obeyed,  but  with 
a  heavy  step  and  slow  movement,  —  all  her  light 
alacrity  lost ;  besides,  she  was  not  well ;  and  he 
hastened  her  sharply.  They  were  standing  on  the 


348  SIR  ROHAN'S  GHOST. 

brink,  the  book  still  in  her  hand,  when,  it  may  be, 
encouraged  by  so  faint  a  glimpse  of  her  old  sun- 
shine, she  summoned  heart,  and  told  him  the 
secret  he  had  never  guessed. 

"  It  was  a  too  legible  writing  of  his  sins.  Harsh 
words  followed, — a  blow,  perhaps, — I  will  not  say, 
—  for  whether  fallen,  or  dashed  aside,  in  a  mo- 
ment more  she  was  sweeping  down  the  tide,  with 
a  small  penknife,  that  he  always  carried,  fixed  in 
her  bosom.  As  for  him,  he  re-entered  the  Tower, 
paid  and  dismissed  the  servants,  locked  the  door, 
and  rushed  away.  Nor  has  that  door  been  opened 
since." 

Arundel,  in  his  cruel  dalliance,  paused  again  to 
look  at  his  auditors,  ere  resuming. 

While  he  listened,  almost  divining  each  word 
before  its  utterance,  Sir  Rohan  had  seemed  to  per- 
ceive a  fiery  vapor  rising  from  the  earth  and  flow- 
ing, like  a  wall,  around  himself  and  Miriam  ;  but 
she,  unconscious  and  intent,  looked  only  on  the 
ground. 

"  And  the  lady  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Yes,  you  are  interested,  I  see.  The  lady  was 
not  drowned;  —  don't  start  —  for  her  hair  had 
caught  in  a  floating  branch,  and  the  current  land- 


THE    GHOST.  349 

ed  her  some  half-mile  further  down,  where  she 
was  found  by  the  farmer  and  his  son,  and  taken  to 
the  cottage.  And  the  stab  proved  to  be  merely  a 
scratch.  Revived  with  difficulty,  she  spoke  in 
broken  sentences  with  her  grandame  now  and 
then,  chiefly  of  these  occurrences  ;  took  her  lov- 
er's ring  from  her  finger,  directing  it  to  be  re- 
stored ;  and  lived  only  long  enough  to  give  birth 
to  a  child,  whose  father  never  knew  of  its  exist- 
ence ;  a  daughter,  whom  the  woman  carried  down 
to  Kent,  where  it  was  adopted  by  the  gentleman  of 
whom  I  have  already  spoken.  By  St.  Denys." 

"  Marc ! "  cried  Miriam,  springing  forward. 
But  Sir  Rohan's  grasp  was  on  her  arm  like  iron. 

"  A  moment,  Miss  Miriam.  The  grandame  did 
not  obey  the  lady's  direction  respecting  the  ring, 
but  concealed  it ;  and  after  turning  over  one  or 
two  stones,  I  found  it,  together  with  the  knife, 
whose  point  was  rusted  with  a  brown  stain.  I 
found  it  in  that  mouldy  book  beneath  the  seventh 
stone  from  the  gateway.  You  shall  see  it  directly. 
There  is  only  one  word  more. 

"I  have  fancied  the  silent  old  woman  driving 
night  and  day,  with  the  dreadful  burden  lying  in 
the  cart  behind  her.  For  before  going  to  Kent  she 

30 


350  SIR  ROHAN'S  GHOST. 

took  the  dead  lady  and  carried  her  the  long  jour- 
ney to  the  other  place  of  the  lover.  There  were 
always  plenty  to  assist  her.  He  was  not  there, 
however  ;  but  she  buried  her  by  night  at  the  foot 
of  a  camellia-bush,  and  left  her  vengeance  with  it. 
You  are  standing  on  the  spot,  Sir  Rohan  !  " 

So  saying,  Arundel  took  a  taper  from  a  box  in 
his  pocket,  and  kindling  it  at  his  boot,  held  the 
ring  beneath  the  little  light,  toward  Miriam. 

It  was  a  broad  gold  hoop,  of  old  workmanship, 
supporting  a  violet  composed  of  amethysts  and 
azure  enamel ;  in  its  centre  lay  a  large,  sparkling 
diamond  engraven  with  a  singular  device.  Some 
lapidary,  in  a  narrow  home  of  European  cities,  had 
perhaps  spent  his  prime  upon  the  precious  toil,  cut- 
ting it  by  dawn  and  sunset,  and  retouching  it  at 
starlight.  This  antique  intaglio  presented  a  fe- 
male figure  holding  in  one  hand  a  distaff,  the  flax 
from  which,  as  she  had  spun  it  out,  she  had  sport- 
ively wound  about  her.  But  the  filament  had 
snatched  itself  from  her  hand  while  she  laughed, 
and  had  writhed  round  in  the  frightful  contortions 
of  a  serpent,  drawing,  each  moment,  a  longer 
length  from  the  distaff  to  coil  again  on  her  neck 
and  uplifted  arm,  while  raising  its  head  and  glit- 


THE    GHOST.  351 

tering  eyes  with  a  curve,  the  foamy  fangs  flickered 
in  her  face.  The  terrible  expression  of  her  power- 
less despair  was  carved  upon  the  playfulness  that 
had  had  no  time  to  pass  away ;  both  stood  distinct, 
like  a  palimpsest  exposed  to  fire.  Round  the  ring 
this  legend  ran: 

0  DEUS  MEUS  VINDEX! 
ILLUM  IN  ISTAC  DIE  ATROCITEE  REMINISCERE. 

Miriam  did  not  observe  this  at  once,  —  she  was 
too  greatly  bewildered.  She  saw  only  a  ring  in 
the  brief  flash  of  the  expiring  taper.  Suddenly  it 
was  dropped  into  her  hand,  and  Arundel  strode 
toward  the  house.  But  it  rolled  away  unregarded 
in  the  moments  of  awful  silence  that  ensued,  while 
Miriam's  wild  eyes  searched  for  refuge  in  the 
wreck. 

The  grasp  left  her  hand  only  to  fasten  on  her 
shoulder,  and  Sir  Rohan  compelled  her  gaze. 

"  We  are  standing  on  your  mother's  grave,"  he 
said  in  a  hoarse  voice  torn  by  fragments  from  a 
shattered  breast.  "  You  are  my  child.  Look  at 
me.  Miriam  !  Miriam  !  I  am  your  father." 

A  dreadful  noise  was  in  his  ears.  Like  a  sword 
the  Ghost  struck  in  a  blinding  blade  of  light 


352  SIR 

through  his  eyes.  All  the  blood  in  his  pulses 
sung  across  his  brain  ;  and  he  fell  prostrate  at  her 
feet. 

A  space,  Miriam  stood  lost.  Then  drawing 
back,  she  touched  him  curiously  with  her  foot, 
in  doubt,  disgust.  It  was  one  of  those  instants 
that  comprehend  eternity ;  the  next,  she  threw 
herself  on  the  ground  beside  him,  lifting  his  head 
on  her  bosom,  and  pouring  forth  wild  prayers  and 
cries  and  tears.  Regardless  of  Arundel  dashing 
away,  of  St.  Denys  hastening  down,  of  all  the 
world,  she  held  him. 

But  vain  to  him  was  joy  or  grief.  Cry  or  prayer 
he  could  not  hear.  Tears  might  not  move  him 
now,  nor  that  long  kiss  reinspire  life.  It  was  a 
corpse  within  her  arms. 

Sir  Rohan  was  dead  of  his  Ghost. 


THE  END. 


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